#jo fics

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Sweet Defender

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: A quiet and shy Y/n, Max Verstappen's sweet-natured girlfriend, surprises everyone by fiercely defending him against his father's harsh criticism, revealing her hidden strength and deep love for Max.

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You were sweet in a way that made people soften around you. There was a kindness in the way you carried yourself, from the way you greeted everyone in the garage with a small, warm smile to how you always remembered little details about their lives. You made people feel seen, even if you rarely said much.

The mechanics would tease Max about how lucky he was to have such a sweet girlfriend. “Max, how did someone like you end up with her?” they’d joke. And Max would grin, ruffling your hair playfully before pulling you into a side hug. He always said you were his calm amidst the storm, the one person who could make him feel grounded, no matter what was happening around him.

You blushed easily—whether from Max’s teasing, a compliment from someone in the paddock, or even just catching him looking at you from across the garage. You didn’t like drawing attention to yourself, preferring to be the quiet presence in Max’s life, always supporting him from the shadows.

In the world of Formula 1, where everything was fast-paced, high-stakes, and often brutally competitive, you were a breath of fresh air. You didn’t come to the races to be seen or to be part of the glamorous world of motorsport. You were there because Max was there, and you cared deeply about him.

Your shyness was something everyone respected, never pushing you to speak up or step out of your comfort zone. It wasn’t that you didn’t have opinions or thoughts—you just preferred to keep them to yourself unless you felt it was necessary to say something. You always felt more comfortable observing, being the one who listened rather than the one who spoke.

But despite your quiet nature, everyone knew there was something strong about you. It was in the way you cared for people, the way you never hesitated to step in if someone needed help, and the way you looked at Max with such unconditional love. You had a soft heart, and that made you special.

Max would often call you his "sweet soul," a term of endearment he used whenever he saw you doing something that reminded him of your kind nature—whether it was making sure the team had enough water during a hot race weekend or asking how someone’s family was doing after a long absence. He admired your gentle spirit, always saying that you made his world feel less chaotic.

Everyone in the paddock adored you, seeing you as this quiet, sweet girl who somehow balanced Max's fiery personality with her calm and soothing presence. You had this unassuming beauty that radiated from the inside out, your kindness making people feel at ease around you. You were cute in the way you nervously tucked your hair behind your ear when someone addressed you directly, or how your cheeks flushed when Max wrapped an arm around you during post-race interviews, never comfortable being in the spotlight.

But today, something had changed.

The paddock was loud and chaotic, as it always was on race weekends, but today the tension was unbearable. Max was storming through the Red Bull garage, his face flushed with anger, frustration pouring out of him with every word.

“They didn’t set the car up right. It’s not even close to drivable!” Max’s voice cut through the air, sharp with disappointment. “How am I supposed to compete like this?”

You stood a little distance away, your hands clasped nervously in front of you, watching him pace back and forth. You hated seeing him like this—his frustration rolling off him in waves, but you knew better than to interrupt him when he was this wound up. Besides, you were never the type to speak up in these situations, even if your heart ached for him.

Then, Jos arrived.

As soon as Jos stepped into the garage, you could feel the atmosphere shift. Max’s body tensed, and you knew this wouldn’t end well. Jos walked straight up to him, not bothering with pleasantries, his voice already raised.

“You’re not good enough today, Max,” Jos said coldly. “You call that driving? You let everyone down out there. Again.”

Your heart clenched at Jos’s words. Max, already on edge from the race, stood frozen, his eyes cast down, taking the verbal onslaught in silence. He didn’t argue back, didn’t defend himself—just stood there, his father’s criticisms raining down on him.

“You used to be better than this,” Jos continued, his voice hard. “Maybe you’re getting too comfortable. Maybe you don’t have what it takes anymore. You think people care about your excuses? No, they care about results.”

It was too much.

Your hands started shaking, the pressure building inside you as you watched Max’s face. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this by his own father, the man who was supposed to support him, not tear him down. And as you stood there, something snapped inside you.

“No!” you shouted, your voice loud enough to startle even yourself. You felt the eyes of the entire garage turn to you, stunned by the sudden outburst from someone who was always so quiet. But you didn’t care anymore.

“Stop it!” you yelled at Jos, your voice trembling but firm. “You don’t get to talk to him like that! You’re not a good father. You never were.”

Jos turned toward you, his expression one of shock and disbelief. No one ever spoke to Jos Verstappen like that. Especially not you.

“You push him and push him, but have you ever once thought about how much you’re hurting him?!” you continued, the words pouring out before you could stop yourself. “Do you even care about him, or is it just about the wins to you? About your ego? Max is incredible—he’s kind and patient, and he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at because things didn’t go perfectly today!”

The entire garage fell silent. Even the mechanics stopped what they were doing, their eyes darting between you, Max, and Jos.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but you couldn’t stop now. “You’ve spent years breaking him down, telling him he’s not good enough, and I don’t know how, but despite everything, Max is still a good person. A better person than you ever were to him.”

Jos’s face twisted with anger, but before he could say anything, Max stepped forward, placing himself between you and his father. His hand reached for yours, squeezing it gently, grounding you.

“She’s right,” Max said quietly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “You’ve pushed me my entire life, and I’ve never said anything, but… it’s enough now, Dad. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not going to let you tear me down like this.”

You could see the emotion in Max’s eyes, the weight of everything he had been holding in for so long finally bubbling to the surface. He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t angry—he was calm, but there was an undeniable finality in his voice.

Jos looked taken aback for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He opened his mouth as if to argue but then closed it again, seemingly realizing there was nothing he could say.

For the first time since you’d known him, Jos Verstappen was speechless.

Max turned toward you, his eyes softening as he met your gaze. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the buzz of the paddock.

You nodded, your chest tight with emotion. You could feel the weight of everyone’s stares on you, but at that moment, all that mattered was Max. The anger that had driven you to speak had faded, replaced by a deep sadness for all that Max had endured. You reached up to touch his cheek gently, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I couldn’t just stand by and watch him hurt you like that,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with the remnants of your outburst. “You don’t deserve any of it.”

Max pulled you into a soft embrace, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing away. For a moment, everything else faded—the race, the disappointment, the frustration. It was just the two of you, holding each other in the middle of the chaos.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, your cheek resting against his chest. “Always.”

Max’s hand tightened on your back, his breathing finally evening out as he held you close. And despite everything, despite the chaos and the tension, in that moment, you knew that nothing else mattered as long as you were together.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Need Saving

Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay.

Song: Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. THIS WILL BE A SERIES AND THANK YOU FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! Please like, reblog and share this! <3 ALSO IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You are making history as the first woman to compete in Formula 1 with the Red Bull team, stepping in for Sergio Perez.

This groundbreaking achievement not only highlights your talent but also paves the way for future generations of female racers in a sport traditionally dominated by men.

Your personality shines through with a warm and friendly demeanor that makes you incredibly approachable. Colleagues and fans alike find you likable, creating an inviting atmosphere wherever you go.

This charm not only endears you to those around you but also helps foster a supportive environment within the competitive world of racing

Some have affectionately dubbed you the "Mini Honey Badger," a nod to the legendary Daniel Ricciardo. This playful comparison reflects your fierce determination and tenacity on the track, qualities that resonate with fans and fellow racers.

Your unique blend of charisma and competitive spirit is sure to leave a lasting impression in the world of Formula 1.

Luckily, you found yourself paired with one of the most talented drivers in the sport, Max Verstappen.

From the very beginning, you and Max clicked effortlessly, perhaps due to your shared sense of humor or the lighthearted way you both approached life outside of racing.

Max, known for his fierce competitiveness on the track, also had a playful side that drew you in. Whether it was sharing funny anecdotes from your childhood or engaging in friendly banter about each other's driving styles, the connection felt natural and invigorating.

You both understood the pressures of the sport, yet you managed to find joy in the little moments, whether it was a shared laugh over a silly meme or a light-hearted debate about the best racing video games.

This bond not only made your time together enjoyable but also fostered a sense of trust and teamwork that would prove invaluable as the season progressed.

During your initial week in Formula 1, the team was treated to a mix of corny jokes and uproarious laughter, creating an atmosphere that was both fun and relaxed.

It was clear that the camaraderie between you two was something special, and it didn’t take long for everyone to notice. The garage, usually filled with the tension of competition, transformed into a space of joy and lightheartedness.

You and Max would often engage in playful challenges, like who could come up with the worst dad joke or who could impersonate the team’s engineers the best.

These moments not only broke the ice but also helped to build a strong team spirit.

The mechanics and engineers, who often worked long hours under pressure, found themselves smiling more often, and the overall morale of the team improved.

It was as if your infectious energy had a ripple effect, reminding everyone that while racing was serious business, it was also about passion, fun, and the love of the sport.

Christian Horner, the team principal, seemed to recognize this chemistry right away.

He confidently remarked to the media about the dynamic of having a girl and a boy on the same team, suggesting that he had a good feeling about the partnership.

His words resonated with the fans and the media alike, sparking conversations about the evolving landscape of motorsport and the importance of diversity within the sport. It was evident that the two of you were destined to make waves together on and off the track.

Christian’s faith in your partnership only fueled your determination to succeed.

You both knew that the expectations were high, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced the challenge.

"Joseph, can you give me an update on the gap behind?" you inquired, your voice steady as it crackled through the radio to your race engineer.

The sound of your own heartbeat echoed in your ears, a reminder of the high stakes at play.

"You're looking at a 5-second lead over Norris, Y/N," Joseph Duke responded, his tone calm and focused.

As you navigated the track, the adrenaline surged through your veins, heightening your senses.

The smell of burning rubber and the roar of engines filled the air, but your focus remained solely on the asphalt ahead.

Max was currently leading the race, and you were right on his tail, just a heartbeat away from making a decisive move.

With the world championship points on the line, every second counted, and the team’s strategy was crucial.

"Copy that, Joseph. I’m feeling good about this pace. Should I push to overtake Max?" you asked, weighing your options.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you could almost hear the roar of the crowd in your mind, their cheers and gasps fueling your determination.

You could picture the fans waving flags, the excitement building as the race unfolded.

"Remember, he’s leading the championship, so those points are vital for him," Joseph reminded you, his voice steady and measured.

You took a deep breath, considering the risks and rewards of your next move. The thought of overtaking Max was tantalizing, but the consequences of a miscalculation loomed large.

"Understood. But if I don’t make a move soon, he might pull away," you replied, your mind racing through the possibilities.

You could see the track ahead, the curves and straightaways that could either make or break your race.

"Just keep your head in the game, Y/N. Focus on your lines and stay patient. The opportunity will come," Joseph advised, his experience guiding you through the chaos.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, reminding yourself that patience was key.

As you approached the next turn, you felt the car respond to your every command, the tires gripping the asphalt with precision.

You could see Max’s car just ahead, a flash of blue and white, and the urge to push harder surged within you.

"Alright, I’ll hold back for now, but I’m ready when the moment strikes," you said, determination lacing your words.

The opportunity to seize the grand prix had slipped through your fingers, leaving you with a bittersweet taste of second place as Max celebrated his victory.

It wasn’t that you felt anger towards him; after all, the stakes were high, and the competition was fierce.

You had performed admirably, even outshining Checo this season, and Red Bull was finally back to their P1-P2 glory.

As you stepped out of your car, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you spotted Max waiting for you, his helmet off and a look of concern etched on his face.

He rushed over, his expression serious as he enveloped you in a quick hug. “You don’t hate me, do you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected question. Removing your helmet, you met his gaze with a warm smile. “Of course not! But don’t think I’ll go easy on you next week,” you replied playfully, your competitive spirit igniting once more.

Max’s face lit up with a genuine smile, the tension dissipating. “Mate, I won’t go down that easy!” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of rivalry.

As you made your way to celebrate with the team, you noticed the difference in how they treated you compared to Max. While he was hoisted into the air, receiving enthusiastic cheers and bone-crushing hugs, you felt a more cautious approach directed your way.

It was a subtle reminder of the gender dynamics at play in the sport. You brushed it off, focusing instead on the camaraderie and the shared passion that brought you all together.

The post-race atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout of joy.

You joined in the celebrations, clapping your hands and cheering for your teammates, but a part of you remained introspective.

You replayed the race in your mind, analyzing every corner, every overtaking maneuver, and every missed opportunity.

The thrill of competition was intoxicating, but so was the desire to prove yourself, not just to the team but to the world.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself lingering at the periphery of the lively celebration, your gaze fixed on Max as he reveled in the spotlight of his victory.

He was the star of the night, the one everyone clamored to congratulate, while you stood in the shadows, merely the second driver.

Christian approached, giving your shoulder a friendly pat, a gesture of appreciation for your support. Yet, it felt insufficient.

You masked your feelings with a bright smile as you watched Max raise his glass, laughter spilling from his lips as the clock inched toward midnight.

“Goodnight, Max,” you called out, aware that your boyfriend, Jake would be less than pleased if you lingered too long.

“Goodnight, best friend! Did I mention you look lovely tonight?” Max replied, his words slightly slurred as he pulled you into a warm embrace.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No, you didn’t! Thank you, Max. You look great too!” you managed to say, your heart fluttering at the compliment.

As the night wore on, you exchanged goodbyes with the others, the atmosphere buzzing with joy and celebration.

You decided it was time to head home, opting for a taxi since you had indulged in a few drinks earlier.

Once inside the cab, you leaned back against the seat, reflecting on the evening. The laughter, the cheers, and the way Max had shone like a beacon of success.

It was hard not to feel a twinge of envy, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself of the bond you shared.

The driver navigated through the city streets, and you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the photos from the night.

There was Max, grinning ear to ear, surrounded by friends, and there you were, a supportive figure in the background.

Just as the car turned, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you glanced down to see a message from Jake.

“Where are you?” he texted, the words appearing on your screen like a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting for you at home.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection as you typed back, “Just left the party! On my way home now. Can’t wait to see you!”

The taxi weaved through the city streets, and you could almost picture him waiting for you, perhaps pacing a little, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was worried.

You could hear his voice in your head, teasing you about how you always took too long to say goodbye, but you knew he loved it just as much as you did.

As the taxi pulled up to your building, you felt a flutter of excitement. You paid the driver and hurried inside, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you stepped into the apartment, a heavy scent of alcohol hit you like a wave, and your heart sank.

The cheerful anticipation you had felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You knew Jake had been struggling lately, and the telltale signs of his mood were all around you.

Empty bottles cluttered the coffee table, their labels peeling and faded, remnants of nights spent drowning sorrows that seemed to multiply with each passing day.

Taking a deep breath, you cautiously made your way further inside, hoping to find a glimmer of the warmth you once cherished, a flicker of the love that had once filled this space.

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” you called out, trying to inject some cheer into the atmosphere, but your voice felt small and fragile against the oppressive silence that enveloped the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

Just then, he emerged from the shadows of the living room, his eyes glassy and unfocused, as if he were peering through a fog that had settled deep within him.

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, each word laced with bitterness. “Did you have fun pretending to be normal out there?”

You felt a chill run down your spine as he continued, hurling insults that cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

It was as if he was trying to push you away, to create a chasm between you that felt insurmountable.

And yet, amidst the hurt, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man you loved, the one who was lost beneath layers of pain and anger.

“Why do you always have to do this?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability in your tone betraying the strength you wished to project. “I just want to help you.”

He scoffed, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand, the gesture almost theatrical in its disdain. “Help? You mean control. You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything? You’re just like everyone else, trying to tell me what to do.”

The words stung, and you felt the weight of his accusations pressing down on you, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you.

“I’m not trying to control you,” you replied softly, “I just want to be there for you. Can’t we talk about this?”

But as you looked into his eyes, you realized that the man you once knew was slipping further away, lost in a haze of his own making.

His gaze, once so full of life and passion, now seemed clouded, distant. It was as if he was peering through a murky window, unable or unwilling to see the vibrant world outside.

You could see the shadows of his struggles etched on his face, the lines of worry and anger deepening with each passing day. It pained you to witness this transformation, to see the light in him dimmed by his own fears and insecurities.

“Why can’t you see that I’m trying to help?” you pressed, your heart racing as desperation crept into your voice. “I’m not your enemy. I want to understand what you’re going through.”

You took a tentative step closer, hoping to bridge the gap that felt insurmountable.

But he recoiled slightly, as if your words were a physical blow, and the distance between you felt more pronounced than ever.

“Understand?” he scoffed, his tone laced with bitterness. “You think you can just waltz in and understand? You have no idea what it’s like to feel trapped, to have every choice taken from you. You don’t know the weight of this burden.”

His voice cracked, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the bravado.

As soon as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake brushed by you, grabbing his coat and shoes in one swift motion.

"I'm heading out for a walk. Don't even think about following me," he snapped, his words laced with the sting of alcohol.

You simply nodded, feeling a mix of concern and frustration, but you stayed rooted in place until you heard the door slam shut behind him.

With the sound echoing in the silence, you finally exhaled, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. You glanced around the room, the remnants of the night scattered everywhere—empty bottles and crumpled napkins littered the floor.

"Guess it's cleanup time," you muttered to yourself, bending down to gather the bottles. As you worked, your mind raced with thoughts of him.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from your best friend, Sarah.

"Hey! How's everything? You okay?"

You sighed, typing back quickly. "Not great. He just stormed out after a fight. I’m cleaning up the mess now."

A moment later, your phone chimed again. "Want me to come over? I can help."

You hesitated, glancing at the door. "No, it’s fine. I just need to sort things out."

"Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone right now."

You paused, considering her words. "I’ll be okay. I just need to think."

As you continued to tidy up, you replayed the argument in your mind. It had started over something trivial, but the alcohol had turned it into a full-blown fight.

You could hear his voice in your head, the way he had raised his tone, the way he had dismissed your feelings.

"Why does he always do this?" you whispered to yourself, frustration bubbling up again.

You were well aware that he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

After tidying up the house, you decided to treat yourself to a long, relaxing bath.

The warm water enveloped you, washing away the day’s worries. Once you felt refreshed, you slipped into your favorite pajamas and crawled into bed, the soft sheets providing a comforting embrace.

He hadn’t always been this way—filled with anger and lost in the depths of alcoholism.

You both had shared a beautiful love story, starting as high school sweethearts. You could still remember the way he used to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection, mirroring the love you felt for him.

As you lay there, memories flooded your mind. You recalled the laughter, the late-night talks, and the dreams you had built together. But now, those dreams felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by the weight of his struggles.

Maybe it was the pressure of work that was taking a toll on him. You thought back to the last time you had a heart-to-heart.

“Do you remember when we used to talk about our future?” you had asked him one evening, the two of you sitting on the porch, the sun setting in a blaze of colors.

He had sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I remember. It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Things can get better, you know. We can work through this together,” you had urged, your heart aching for the man you once knew.

He had looked away, his expression clouded. “I don’t know if I can. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to swim anymore.”

You had reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, always.”

But as the days turned into weeks, the distance between you grew. The man you loved was slipping away, replaced by someone you barely recognized.

Now, lying in bed, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to you. Would he remember the love you once shared? Would he fight against the demons that haunted him?

With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes, hoping that tomorrow would bring a glimmer of hope, a sign that the man you loved was still inside, waiting to break free.

As you settled into bed, the glow of your phone screen illuminated the dark room, revealing a flurry of notifications that had accumulated while you were winding down.

Most of them were filled with excitement, congratulating you on your impressive second-place finish in the race. However, amidst the sea of cheerful messages, one stood out—a private note from Max.

While some comments stung with negativity, suggesting you didn’t belong in the world of Formula 1, Max’s message was a beacon of warmth.

“Thanks for coming to celebrate with me 👍,” it read, and a smile crept across your face, momentarily pushing away the weight of the harsh words.

You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you, and for a moment, tears threatened to spill over. But instead of succumbing to the sadness, you decided to respond to Max.

Your fingers danced over the screen as you typed, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, you deserved it! 😁” The moment you hit send, a sense of relief washed over you.

It was a reminder that amidst the criticism, there were still those who appreciated your presence and celebrated your achievements.

You could almost hear Max’s laughter echoing in your mind, a sound that always seemed to lift your spirits.

Just as you were about to put your phone down, a new message popped up from Max. “You really made the night special! I’m glad you were there. Let’s catch up soon?”

His words filled you with warmth, and you could picture him grinning with alcohol still in his system, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Absolutely! I’d love to,” you replied, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

After setting your phone aside for the night, you drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the world outside fading into a distant memory.

When you awoke, you were enveloped in a warm embrace, the kind that felt like home. Instantly, you recognized the familiar presence of Jake, his body radiating warmth against yours.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of his previous night out with friends, a detail that both amused and concerned you.

A smile crept across your face as you turned to see him, his features relaxed and serene, a stark contrast to the tension that had marked his demeanor the night before.

Curiosity sparked within you, igniting a flurry of questions as you pondered where he had spent his time, what stories he might have to share, and whether the night had been as wild as you imagined.

You felt a rush of affection for him, a desire to know every detail of his adventures, to understand the man who had captured your heart so completely.

Despite the warnings from your friends urging you to reconsider your relationship, your feelings for him remained steadfast, unwavering like a lighthouse in a storm.

They claimed he was a source of trouble, a tempest that could jeopardize your career and stir up scandals that would ripple through your life.

Yet, deep down, you understood him better than they did, seeing the layers of his character that they overlooked. You believed in his integrity, in the goodness that lay beneath the surface, and you knew he wouldn’t intentionally cause chaos in your life.

Their concerns echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the sound of waves crashing against a far-off shore.

You were determined to forge your own path, to trust your instincts, and to embrace the love that had blossomed between you, even if it meant standing alone against the tide of skepticism.

Although your relationship was already in the public eye, with whispers and speculation swirling around you like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind, he had yet to join you in the paddock due to his work commitments.

You felt a mix of anticipation and longing, a bittersweet ache in your chest as you navigated the bustling environment without him by your side.

As you glanced at your phone, the screen illuminated the early morning hour, signaling it was time for your daily jog.

You carefully extricated yourself from Jake's embrace, trying not to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Just as you were about to tiptoe out of the room, you caught a faint mumble escaping his lips, a mix of sleep and concern. “Where are you going?” he murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness.

You paused for a moment, torn between the urge to reassure him and the need to stick to your routine.

“I’m just going for a quick run, love. I’ll be back before you know it,” you replied softly, hoping to ease any lingering worries. His brow furrowed slightly, even in his sleep, as if he sensed your departure was more than just a morning ritual.

“You always run too early… what if someone sees you?” he muttered, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, even in his dreams.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just me and the open road. You know I love my morning jogs.”

You could feel the tension in the air, a familiar weight that often accompanied your outings. “Okay,” he finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in his tone.

You quickly changed into your jogging attire before stepping out of the house. With a sense of urgency, you slipped into your comfortable workout gear, ready to embrace the fresh air outside.

The fabric of your favorite moisture-wicking shirt clung to your skin, and the soft elastic of your running shorts felt familiar and reassuring.

You laced up your well-worn sneakers, the soles still resilient from countless miles, and took a moment to stretch your legs, feeling the anticipation build within you.

Once dressed, you felt the excitement of the run ahead, eager to hit the pavement and enjoy the rhythm of your feet against the ground.

The world outside beckoned, vibrant and alive, as you opened the door and stepped into the crisp morning air. The scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers filled your lungs, invigorating your spirit.

You took a deep breath, letting the coolness wash over you, and with a quick glance at the sky, you noted the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue across the horizon.

As you began to jog, the familiar cadence of your heartbeat matched the steady thump of your feet on the pavement. Each stride felt liberating, a release from the confines of the day-to-day.

You could feel the tension of the week melting away with every step, replaced by a sense of freedom and clarity.

The rhythmic sound of your breath mingled with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, creating a symphony of nature that accompanied you on your journey.

As you were enjoying your morning jog through the park, the rhythmic sound of your feet hitting the pavement was suddenly interrupted by a group of enthusiastic voices.

A cluster of women and girls approached you, their faces lighting up with excitement. "Excuse me! Miss Y/N! Can we get your autograph?" one of them exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

You paused, a bit surprised but also flattered, and smiled at the eager crowd. "Of course! I’d be happy to," you replied, pulling out a small notepad from your pocket.

Amid the chatter, a young girl stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I want to start go-karting because I want to be just like you!" she declared, her voice filled with determination.

You could see the passion in her eyes, and it warmed your heart. "That’s amazing! Go-karting is such a fun sport," you encouraged her. "What do you love most about it?"

The girl beamed, her confidence growing as she shared her dreams of racing and the thrill of speed. "I love the idea of being in control and going fast! It looks so cool!"

You nodded, feeling a sense of responsibility to inspire her. "You know, every champion starts somewhere. If you really want to do it, just keep practicing and never give up. Surround yourself with people who support you, and you’ll go far," you advised, hoping to instill a sense of belief in her.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously. "I will! Thank you so much!"

As the group dispersed, you felt a renewed sense of purpose, realizing that your journey could inspire others to chase their dreams, just as you had. . . .

As the days rolled on, the team decided to spice things up a bit before race week by organizing a fun game called "How Well Do You Know Each Other."

The idea was to not only entertain the fans but also to give everyone a glimpse into the camaraderie between you and Max.

You found yourself standing in front of the camera, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you, while Max lounged comfortably on the sofa behind you, his headphones snugly in place, unable to listen in.

The staff kicked off the game with a playful tone, "Alright, let’s start with you! The first question about Max is… what is Max's favorite food?" You grinned, confident in your knowledge of your teammate.

"Oh, I know this one! Max is a huge fan of both Italian and Dutch cuisine, while I personally lean more towards Spanish dishes," you replied, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

The crew chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter, and you could see Max nodding in agreement, a smirk on his face even though he didn't know what you said.

After a few more questions, it was time for the roles to reverse. You took a seat on the sofa, and Max stood in front of the camera, a playful glint in his eyes.

The staff asked him the same question, and he leaned forward, a teasing smile forming. "Well, I know my teammate pretty well! She loves her Spanish food, but I think she secretly wishes she could cook like an Italian chef," he joked.

"You better be getting this right, I wanna beat Charles and Carlos' record," you said, feeling the competitive in you to beat Ferrari's record of 18 out of 20 right.

Max only turned around and gave an okay sign since you couldn't hear him, adding a little small wink for the tease but it was caught on camera.

In the end, both you and Max aced all the questions, and the excitement bubbled over as you jumped up and down, your energy infectious. Max stood nearby, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched your enthusiasm.

"See, everyone! Red Bull is clearly the superior team compared to Ferrari, so make sure to support us this week!" you exclaimed, wrapping up the video with a flourish.

As you turned to Max, you noticed he was still gazing at you, lost in thought. It took you by surprise.

"Max, do you want to add anything to what I just said?" you asked, a playful grin on your face as you nudged his shoulder gently.

Snapping back to reality, Max turned to the camera, a hint of sheepishness in his expression.

"Oh, umm, yeah… Red Bull domination, I guess?" he replied, his voice a mix of uncertainty and enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his response, and Max's smile widened, clearly pleased that he could make you laugh.

"Alright, everyone, that's a wrap! We'll catch you all soon. Fingers crossed for another P1-P2 finish, but maybe next time we can switch things up a bit," you said, waving enthusiastically at the camera.

As the camera clicked off, you turned to the crew with a warm smile, expressing your gratitude for their support. You shifted your focus to Max, who was standing nearby, a mix of anticipation and amusement on his face.

"Hey, Max," you began, a playful glint in your eye. "How does it feel to be the most compatible drivers on the grid?"

Max's eyes widened slightly at the phrase "most compatible," and you could see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. But as soon as he processed the word "driver," his expression shifted to one of mild disappointment.

"It feels nice, I guess," he replied, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "Just another thing to brag about to Lando, right?"

You chuckled, knowing how much Max loved to tease his fellow drivers. "Oh, absolutely! I can already picture it—Lando rolling his eyes while you go on about how you and I are the ultimate duo."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "He'll probably come up with some ridiculous comeback, like how he’s the best driver in the world or something."

"Well, he does have a knack for that," you said, leaning against the wall, enjoying the banter. "But let’s be honest, you two are like an old married couple. Always bickering but secretly caring for each other."

Max rolled his eyes dramatically. "Please, I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. I can barely handle my own sleeping schedule!"

Max shrugged, a hint of humility creeping into his demeanor. "But honestly, having you around makes it easier. You bring a different energy to the team."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thanks, Max. That means a lot coming from you. I think we balance each other out pretty well."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, it’s like we have this unspoken understanding. You know when to push me and when to let me breathe. It’s refreshing."

"Exactly! And it’s not just about racing; it’s about the camaraderie we build off the track too. Those late-night strategy sessions and the random moments of laughter—they all add up."

Max chuckled, recalling a particularly ridiculous moment from a previous race weekend. "Remember that time we got lost trying to find the catering tent? We ended up in that random fan zone instead!"

You burst out laughing, the memory flooding back. "Oh my god, yes! And those fans were so excited to see us, they thought we were there for a meet-and-greet! We ended up taking selfies with them for an hour."

"Right? And then we finally found the catering tent, only to discover they were out of your favorite pasta!" Max added, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That was a tragedy," you said, feigning a dramatic sigh. "But it turned into one of the best days. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything."

Max’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a genuine smile breaking through. "Me neither. It’s those little things that make all the hard work worth it."

You both stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the camaraderie between you palpable. The atmosphere around the paddock buzzed with activity, but in that moment, it felt like you were in your own little world.

"Alright, enough of the mushy stuff," Max said, breaking the moment with a playful nudge. "Let’s get back to business. We’ve got a race to prepare for, and I can’t let you steal all my glory."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Oh, please! You know I’m just here to make you look good. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing the reigning champion."

What you two didn't know was that the cameras didn't stop but recorded your little moment, which went viral in the few minutes that it was posted. . . . .

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

You knew that the public would start shipping you and Max together sooner or later but you weren't bothered with it.

You had a boyfriend who you cared for deeply, someone who had been your rock through the ups and downs of your racing career. Yet, his reaction to the swirling rumors about you and Max took you by surprise.

You never imagined he would be so affected by the gossip that seemed to spread like wildfire through the paddock and beyond.

Here you were, caught in a web of emotions, torn between the thrill of a new chapter and the loyalty you felt towards your current relationship.

As you stepped through the door of your home, the familiar scent of your shared space enveloped you, but it did little to ease the tension that hung in the air.

You found Jake lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, and you could sense that something was off.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted him, trying to sound cheerful despite the weight on your shoulders. He barely looked up, his fingers scrolling furiously, as if searching for answers in the digital chaos.

“Did you hear about you and Max?” he finally snapped, his voice laced with irritation, cutting through the silence like a knife. “It’s all over social media. Are you really going to let this get to you?”

You felt your heart sink; you had hoped for a different reaction, one that would reassure you that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the storm of rumors.

“Come on, it’s just rumors,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tremor in it betrayed your inner turmoil. “You know I’m committed to only you.”

You watched as he shot you a skeptical glance, his jealousy bubbling to the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. “Yeah, but how can I trust you when you’re out there with him all the time? It’s not just a coincidence that everyone is talking about it.”

The words stung, and you took a deep breath. "Babe I love only you-"

"Please, don’t even think about it! You know I’m stuck here because if I walked away, your fans would make my life a living nightmare," Jake exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling from the harsh reality of your situation.

It was as if he had taken a knife and twisted it, exposing the raw vulnerability you had tried so hard to hide.

You could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. "I didn’t ask for any of this," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you could sense the tension between you growing thicker by the second. It was a battle of emotions, and you were losing ground.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know it’s not fair, but you have to understand the pressure I’m under. It’s not just about us; it’s about my career, my fans. I can’t let them down."

His eyes softened for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the man you fell in love with.

"But I don’t want to lose you. Can’t we find a way to make this work?" You pleaded.

"I don't know," he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his phone before standing up and walking past you to get his coat and shoes. "i'm gonna take a walk,"

This has been a pattern for weeks now. You would come home, he would start an argument then make up an excuse to leave the house, leaving you to either pick up his mess or go to sleep without your partner. To only wake up with him cuddling you in the morning and apologise for his action last night.

You were getting sick of it but you still love him too much to break up with him. . . .

The days that followed were a blur of introspection and emotional turmoil. Each time you caught a glimpse of Jake’s name on your phone, a knot formed in your stomach.

You had always been the type to see the good in people, to believe that love could conquer all, but the reality of your situation was becoming harder to ignore.

The moments of tenderness were overshadowed by the growing unease that settled in your chest like a heavy stone.

You spent more time with Sarah, who seemed to sense your internal struggle. She filled your days with laughter and distraction, taking you out for coffee, long walks in the park, and movie marathons that kept your mind off the impending decision.

Yet, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, the thought of Jake lingered like a shadow, reminding you of the grip he had on your heart—and not in a way that felt safe or loving.

One evening, as you and Sarah sat on the balcony watching the sunset, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, she turned to you again.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but you have to prioritize your happiness. You can’t keep living in this limbo," she said, her voice steady and unwavering.

You looked out at the horizon, the beauty of the moment contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside you.

"I know," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "But what if I’m wrong? What if he really can change?"

The fear of making the wrong choice loomed large, a specter that haunted your thoughts.

"Change is possible, but it has to come from him, not from you hoping for it," Sarah said gently. "You can’t be the one to fix him. You’re not responsible for his happiness or his growth. You deserve to be with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. You thought back to the last time he had gripped your arm, the way his eyes had darkened, and how you had brushed it off as a moment of frustration.

But now, in the light of day, you could see it for what it was—a warning sign that you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

That night, as you lay in bed, the silence of your room felt deafening. You replayed every moment of your relationship, the good and the bad, and slowly, the scales began to tip.

The holiday seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye, and soon you found yourself stepping into the paddock alongside Sarah and Jake.

As you walked, you could feel the tension in the air; Jake wore a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, gripping your hand a little too tightly.

“Hey, look at all the fans!” you exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood as you waved enthusiastically at the crowd, signing autographs for those who called out your name.

Sarah, taking a break from her hectic job, had decided to join you, her laughter ringing out like music amidst the bustling atmosphere.

“Isn’t this amazing?” you said, glancing at Sarah, who was snapping pictures with her phone. “I can’t believe how many people came out today!”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s like a mini-celebration! But where’s your boyfriend? He seems a bit off today.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the concern. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just tired. We haven’t really talked much since we got back.”

You stole a glance at him, who was still smiling, but it felt forced, like he was putting on a show for everyone around.

You made the decision to invite Jake into your driver’s room for a heart-to-heart conversation. As you settled into the familiar space, you turned to him with a gentle concern.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” you asked, your voice soft and inviting.

Jake looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and longing, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m alright, really. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately,” he replied, his tone sincere.

In that moment, you felt a rush of warmth; you had missed the comfort of his touch more than you realized.

“Jake, I need to let you know that I have to leave soon,” you murmured, trying to keep the conversation grounded. But he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“Why don’t you just quit your job already? I can take care of you, I promise,” he suggested, his voice dripping with temptation.

The idea hung in the air between you, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of his offer.

It was tempting, but the passion you had for Formula 1 was a flame that burned too brightly to extinguish for anyone, even someone as captivating as Jake.

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. “Jake, you know how much this means to me. Formula 1 isn’t just a job; it’s my dream,” you replied, your heart heavy with the conflict.

He stepped back slightly, his expression shifting from desire to disappointment. “I get it, but can’t you see how much I care about you? I want us to be together, and I thought you felt the same way,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, and it pained you to know that your passion for racing was creating a rift between you.

“I do care about you, but I can’t just walk away from everything I’ve worked for,” you insisted, hoping he would understand.

As you stand there, the tension weighs heavily in the air, palpable and thick, as Jake's frustration spills over, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and desperation.

"But what about me?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer that you know is difficult to provide. "Since you started this job, we haven’t done anything together. All you've been doing is hanging out with that Max boy. Don’t you see it?"

His words cut through the silence, piercing the surface of your mind and forcing you to confront the tangled web of your life that feels all too overwhelming at this moment.

As you gather your thoughts, aware that the job has transformed your priorities and the once-familiar relationship with Jake has shifted, you attempt to articulate your feelings, to bridge the widening chasm of misunderstanding.

"Jake—" you start, your voice tremulous, hoping to weave a delicate thread of connection that can pull you both back to a place of understanding, but he interjects, the intensity of his emotions propelling him forward before you can offer your perspective.

"I’ll show you—don't worry," he mutters, the frustration lacing his tone beginning to dissipate as he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a gesture that is both protective and possessive.

The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the bond you once cherished.

Feeling the urgency of the moment, his lips find yours, a kiss that ignites a flicker of hope amid the turmoil of doubt and fear swirling around you. . . .

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After the holiday break, you had started to act differently, almost as if a shadow had fallen over their usual camaraderie.

Whenever he approached to nudge her shoulder playfully, she would flinch, a look of surprise crossing her face as if she were bracing for something unpleasant.

It was a stark contrast to the easygoing banter they once shared, and he couldn't help but notice how she had become more withdrawn, often lost in her thoughts, her laughter replaced by a distant gaze.

He believed you were feeling down because the team was struggling to achieve the results they had hoped for.

Typically, his father would reach out to him after a disappointing race, sometimes even resorting to physical punishment if the outcome was particularly disheartening.

It was a routine he had come to accept, thinking it was a common experience shared by many.

However, everything changed when his therapist pointed out that not everyone endured such treatment, which sparked a rebellion within him against his father's harsh ways.

"Why do you always have to be so hard on me?" he had shouted one evening, frustration boiling over.

His father, taken aback, responded with a stern look, "Because I want you to be the best, Max. You need to learn that life isn’t always fair."

But Max felt differently; he wanted to be supported, not punished.

As he pondered your situation, he couldn't help but wonder if you had faced similar challenges.

"Do you have someone in your life who treats you badly?" he asked cautiously, trying to gauge your response.

Your eyes widened at the sudden question before you shook your head, a small smile breaking through the clouds of doubt.

"No, not like that. Everyone is really supportive of me these days."

Max felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that you had not been in that cycle of abuse he had been so familiar with.

In many of the recent races, both you and Max found yourselves finishing in the P2 to P4 range, or sometimes not making it to the podium at all, which left the team feeling quite disheartened.

The once-promising season had turned into a series of missed opportunities, and the weight of expectations began to take its toll on everyone involved.

The atmosphere in the garage was thick with tension, and the engineers were working overtime to analyze data and strategize for the next race, but the results were still falling short of what the team had hoped for.

This situation also prompted Max's father, Jos, to plan a visit during the race weekend. He intended to check in on his son and perhaps give him a much-needed reality check, quite literally.

As the race day approached, Jos observed his son engaging in cheerful conversation with you, rather than focusing on the engineers to gather crucial insights, a routine Max typically adhered to before a race.

This deviation from his usual pre-race preparation did not sit well with Jos.

He had always believed that the hours leading up to a race were critical for mental conditioning and strategy formulation. To see Max laughing and joking instead of poring over telemetry data or discussing race strategies with the engineers was concerning for him.

Jos's frustration grew as he watched the interaction unfold. He believed that your presence was a distraction, pulling Max away from the intense focus required for peak performance.

In his eyes, the bond you shared with his son was undermining Max's potential to excel on the track.

He felt that friendships weren't important and they should not come at the expense of Max's dedication to his craft.

Jos was determined to address this issue head-on, convinced that a serious conversation was necessary to realign Max's priorities. . . . .

In the midst of a lively discussion filled with laughter and camaraderie, Jos abruptly interjected, "Max, I need to talk to you right now."

His tone cut through the jovial atmosphere, drawing the attention of both you and his son. The laughter faded, replaced by a sudden stillness as everyone turned to witness the unfolding scene.

Max's expression shifted from joy to disappointment as he glanced at you, yet he managed to offer a reassuring smile before reluctantly following his father away from the group.

"Yes, Father?" Max responded in Dutch, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. The way he spoke suggested a mix of respect and wariness, as if he were bracing himself for a conversation he knew would be anything but easy.

Jos wasted no time in launching into his concerns, his words spilling out with a sense of urgency.

"You must distance yourself from that girl; she is a distraction that will hinder your performance in the race," he asserted, his tone firm and authoritative, as if he were delivering a decree rather than a request.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to the lightheartedness that had just moments ago enveloped the gathering.

Max, however, was quick to defend you, his loyalty evident in the way he stood a little taller, his brow furrowing in determination. "No, she doesn't distract me, Father. She's my teammate," he stated, his voice steady and resolute.

The conviction in his tone reflected a bond that transcended mere friendship; it was a partnership built on shared goals and mutual respect.

Yet, as he spoke, the tension between father and son thickened, a palpable clash of wills that seemed to reverberate through the quiet space around them.

Jos, sensing the resistance in Max's voice, shifted his approach, employing subtle manipulation to sway his son’s perspective.

"Think about your future, Max. You have so much potential, and I only want what is best for you," he continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to appeal to Max's aspirations.

The words were carefully chosen, designed to instill doubt about your influence, to paint you as an obstacle rather than an ally.

Max hesitated, caught between his father's expectations and his own feelings.

The internal struggle was evident on his face, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he grappled with the conflicting loyalties that tugged at his heart.

"It is evident in your results over the weeks, you've been falling off the high scores recently, hardly been able to reach third place because of that girl!" Jos stressed out and Max became quiet, letting those words sink in.

"Max, think about it," Jos continued, his tone shifting to one of persuasion. "You need to focus on your game and not let distractions get in the way. She's not worth it."

Max felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He had always admired his father's wisdom, but now he sensed a subtle manipulation at play. Jos was trying to steer him away from his feelings, and deep down, Max knew it.

Yet, the idea of disappointing his father loomed larger than his own desires.

"Okay, Father," Max finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt a pang of regret as he agreed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing a part of himself in the process. As he walked away, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

Was it worth sacrificing his happiness for the sake of competition?

As he walked away, the sound of his father's footsteps fading behind him, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

The internal struggle was just beginning, and Max knew he had to find a way to balance his passion for the game with the complexities of his heart.

He thought of you—the woman who had sparked something within him, a light that had ignited a warmth he hadn't been able to feel like Daniel left.

After he began to distance himself from you, he noticed a change in your demeanor.

You seemed more withdrawn, putting on a facade of happiness with a constant smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding behind long-sleeved coats, even in the warm weather, creating a barrier between yourself and the world around you.

The vibrant laughter that once filled the air when you were together had been replaced by a silence that hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the occasional forced chuckle or polite nod.

Max could see the way your shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of unspoken words and unshared feelings was pressing down on you.

Your eyes, once bright with enthusiasm and mischief, now seemed clouded, reflecting a deep-seated sadness that you tried so hard to conceal.

He remembered the long pointless conversations, the dreams you both had shared, and the plans that now felt like distant memories. It pained him to witness your struggle, yet he felt powerless to bridge the growing chasm between you.

Despite the guilt that gnawed at him, Max couldn’t help but recognize a shift in his own performance on the racetrack.

He found himself consistently finishing on the podium, a stark contrast to your struggles as you remained trapped within the top ten.

Each trophy he lifted felt heavier than the last, a reminder of the friendship that had once fueled his passion for racing.

He could hear the cheers of the crowd, feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but all he could think about was how you used to be there, celebrating alongside him, your face alight with pride and joy.

While he celebrated his achievements, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was missing.

The camaraderie they once shared seemed to slip further away with each passing race, leaving him to wonder if the price of success was worth the cost of their connection.

He often found himself glancing over at the empty spot in the pit where you used to stand, your eyes sparkling with encouragement, your voice ringing out with advice that had always kept him grounded.

As the races continued, Max felt a growing urgency to reach out, to break through the walls you had built around yourself.

But his father kept him grounded and not letting that thought come to life anytime soon. . . .

As you maneuver through the winding turns of the racetrack, adrenaline surges through your veins, a heady blend of focus and exhilaration.

"Joseph, what's the gap to Max?" you inquire, your voice steady despite the chaos enveloping you as you glance at the rearview mirror, noticing Charles's fierce pursuit as he falls into your peripheral vision, momentarily eclipsed by your recent strategic overtaking maneuver.

"2.3 seconds in front of you, Y/N," Joseph replies, his tone equally crisp yet slightly strained, hinting at the intensity of the moment.

The hum of the engine, the vibrations of the car, and the distant roar of the crowd blend into a symphony of speed, and as you negotiate the track, your mind sharpens with determination.

You consider your next move with meticulous care, knowing that a split-second decision could alter the course of the race.

Holding tightly to the steering wheel, you then ask, “Do I have permission to take over?”

Pause hangs in the air like a fragile breath, and you can almost anticipate Joseph's reply, especially given the longstanding tradition wherein hesitance often blankets these life-altering decisions.

Sure enough, after a fleeting silence, you prepare for the inevitable response that would echo in your ears like an unwelcome refrain, one you were all too familiar with.

But just as you brace yourself for a “no,” the radio crackles to life again—this time with a tidal wave of unexpected urgency.

"Yes! Y/N? Can you hear me? The team has approved the overtake of Max! Go for it!" Joseph’s voice bursts through with a burst of energy, jolting you from your reverie.

Instinctively, your foot plunges onto the accelerator as you channel every ounce of skill, focus, and ambition into propelling yourself forward.

You swiftly navigate the corner, your car gliding through the air like a bird released from captivity, and in that moment of pure adrenaline, you find yourself eclipsing Max, reclaiming the lead with undeniable ferocity.

As you settle into your newfound position at first place, the tension morphs into an exhilarating electrification coursing through your body.

Max, having momentarily lost his grip on the lead, now battles to fend off Charles and Lando from making any hazardous moves that might threaten your dominion at the front.

In the heat of the moment, the radio blaring with strategic updates fades into the background as your vision narrows solely on the track ahead—you are a race car driver, a gladiator in this battle of speed, and nothing else matters.

The world dissolves into monochrome, your focus unwavering as you grip the wheel like it’s a lifeline.

Distant cheers from the crowd seep through your concentration, yet you silence those voices, drowning out distractions as you become acutely aware of the weight of the race, the dreams that hang delicately in the balance—everything is at stake.

You feel sweat trickling down your temple and a syrupy mix of anticipation and fear soaring through your chest, but as you approach the final laps, triumph struggles to emerge from the depths of your hardwork.

Amidst the exhilarating distractions, your attention sharpens when you catch a faint echo of Joseph’s voice cutting through the chatter. "Y/N! You did it! You won!"

The joyous eruption on the other end floods your senses with disbelief, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over you.

In that electrifying moment, as you maintain your grip on the wheel for the last few seconds, reality begins to wash over you like an exhilarating wave, and the tears you could feel brewing now threaten to spill, your triumph intertwining with your vulnerability.

With the checkered flag waving triumphantly in the air, you ease down on the accelerator, the sensation of victory swelling inside you as you let a muffled cry of delight escape your lips.

You slow your car and finally breathe, releasing all the pent-up energy, as the realization of your success resonates in every fiber of your being.

"You did it, Y/N! You won the grand prix!" Joseph's voice dances through the radio, resonating with an infectious glee.

A burst of laughter escapes your lips, and for the first time, the roar of the crowd—a melodic blend of cheers—warms your heart.

As you roll to a stop, the world around you crescendos into a celebration of your harrowing journey—each twist, each turn, each heartbeat racing in sync with the rhythm of victory.

The moment is surreal, and as you step out of the car, you are not just a racer anymore; you are a triumphant force that turned dreams into reality, and no title could encapsulate the pride swelling within you.

You parked the car in front of the first-place stand, your heart racing as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a moment to absorb the victory that had just unfolded; it was surreal, almost like a scene plucked from your wildest dreams.

You stood on the hood of your car, exhilaration bubbling up inside you as you raised your fists in triumph, thrusting them into the air with a euphoric fist bump that echoed your unrestrained joy.

The cheers of the crowd swirled around you, a chorus of celebration, and for a heartbeat, the entire world felt like it paused in honour of your hard-fought achievement.

The weight of every early morning, every late night, every moment spent honing your driving in the shadows now seemed beautifully light, overshadowed by the sheer thrill of the moment.

As you jumped off the car with a renewed sense of vitality, you sprinted toward your team, their faces lit up with genuine happiness.

It marked a pivotal moment, one where they no longer treated you as fragile or merely a woman in a male-dominated sport; instead, they embraced you like a teammate, a winner.

You felt the warmth of their hugs wrapping around you, their joy infectious in a way that washed away any lingering doubts you had ever held about your place in this fierce and demanding environment.

“I can’t believe we did it!” you exclaimed, looking around at their beaming faces, heart swelling.

Some laughing tears glistening in their eyes, as they crowded around you, lifting you momentarily off your feet, celebrating not only your victory but the growth of a team bound together by perseverance and shared dreams.

Max eventually pulled up in front of the second-place station, his car’s engine rumbling to a soft stop just a few feet away from you. He stepped out, the sunlight catching the edges of his helmet as he removed it, revealing a look of pure delight plastered across his face.

It was a sight that brightened your heart; his genuine smile mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the fierce competition that had just transpired on the track.

You could hardly control the emotions that swelled within you. With an impulsive rush, you charged toward him, unable to contain the joy of your victory.

In a flurry of excitement, you leaped into his arms, a spontaneous act born from the adrenaline still dancing through your body. He caught you effortlessly, his hands cradling your back protectively, and in that moment, the world shrank down to just the two of you.

“I won!" you declared, breathless, your voice a mixture of disbelief and sheer happiness, as if saying it out loud might make the victory feel more real.

A grin split Max's face wider, and you could see the pride sparkling in his eyes. “Yeah, you won! Congratulations!" he echoed, his voice turning melodic with the thrill of your accomplishment.

His embrace tightened around you, and you melted into the moment, filled with a sense of camaraderie and respect that had blossomed between you two over the course of your racing journeys.

As he set you back on your feet, laughter bubbled up once again, infectious and wildly free.

"I hope I didn't catch you off guard with that leap," you admitted, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice as you took a sip from your drink.

"Not at all! I’m just thrilled for you," Max replied, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he gave you a friendly pat on the back.

After the interview with the top three winners, you, Max, and Charles settled into the conference room, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement as the race replay flickered on the screen. The tension was palpable as the footage captured the thrilling moments of the competition.

"Wow! That was such a turn!" Charles exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow, clearly still feeling the adrenaline from the race.

He was referring to the intense maneuver where he nearly overtook Lando, a moment that had everyone on the edge of their seats.

As the race continued to unfold on the screen, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind racing with the events that had just transpired.

You focused on your breathing, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You had actually won.

Max, sitting beside you, noticed your silence and turned his attention toward you, his eyes filled with concern.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked softly, breaking the tension in the room. His voice was steady, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of the race replay.

You nodded slowly, appreciating Max's concern but still feeling the weight of the moment. "Yeah, just processing everything," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

After the conference wrapped up, the divers were given the freedom to either retreat to their driver’s rooms or celebrate with their teams and families.

However, the atmosphere was tinged with concern. The race winner was notably absent, and everyone had been eagerly anticipating a celebration for your first victory.

But after you dashed out of the conference room in a flurry, you seemed to vanish without a trace.

Everyone, especially Max, who had reached out to congratulate you repeatedly, was waiting, eager for you to join them in the festivities.

Max had noticed your absence almost immediately after the conference ended. The smile that had danced on his lips dimmed when you didn't join the team to celebrate; he frequently glanced toward the driver’s room, a sense of unease gnawing at his gut.

The more he thought about it, the more his concern deepened; it wasn't like you to shy away from such moments of triumph.

As teammates and family began to cheer and revel in the evening's wins, Max made the decision to search for you.

His quest took him to the paddock and then to your garage, but each passing minute only heightened his worries. "Where could you be, Y/N?" he murmured to himself, frustration lacing his voice as he traversed the familiar paths of the circuit, searching desperately for a glimpse of you.

His heart raced with anxiety; he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, his gaze landed on the door of your driver's room, slightly ajar, like a whisper beckoning him to enter. Without a second thought, he approached and knocked gently, "Y/N, are you in there?"

Listening intently, he leaned closer to the door and was met with faint whimpers that sent a chill down his spine.

Panic surged through him.

This wasn’t just a moment of celebration for you; it felt like a cry for help, echoing through the cold corridor.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open wider, bracing himself for whatever he might find—though nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when the door creaked open.

The scene unfolded before him like a nightmare; your so-called boyfriend stood menacingly above you, his hand raised as if poised to strike, while your frail form displayed clear signs of distress—your face bruised, tears streaming down your cheeks, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment as he took stock of the situation, the cruel contrast of celebration outside and the terrifying reality inside your room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Max's voice cut through the air, laced with fury as he stepped into the room, instinctively placing himself between you and the looming threat.

In that instant, your boyfriend's grip on your collar slackened, surprise washing over his features as he turned to face Max.

“Stay out of this, Max! This has nothing to do with you,” your boyfriend snarled, his bravado faltering under the sudden scrutiny.

But Max remained steadfast, stepping closer, his presence commanding as he glared at the man who had dared to raise a hand against you.

“You’re wrong. It has everything to do with me. Y/N is my friend, and I won’t let you hurt her,” he replied, his voice steady yet filled with palpable tension.

Your eyes met Max's, a flicker of hope igniting amidst despair, and despite everything, the warmth of that friendship washed over you.

Max's voice echoed through the room, a mix of frustration and urgency. "You need to leave now!" he shouted, his eyes locked onto your boyfriend, who stood there with clenched fists and a scowl that could cut glass.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice through. Your boyfriend hesitated, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, but something in Max's tone made him reconsider.

"Fine," he finally muttered, his voice low and filled with resentment. "I’ll go, but this isn’t over."

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving you and Max in a heavy silence.

“Max, please…” you managed to choke out, your voice hoarse as the fear and pain slowly ebbed. “I just…I just wanted to celebrate, but I didn’t know who I could trust. I thought…”

Your voice faltered as the tears resumed their steady flow. Max's gaze softened as he turned back to you, the protective barrier he had formed in front of you embodying more than just physical defense.

“You can trust me, Y/N,” he said firmly, his expression shifting to one of concern.

With Max's unwavering support behind you, the resolve within you began to build.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling, but a hint of strength colored your tone.

[kajibunny]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ we're just friends! (or are we?) w/ the wind breaker boys ✧⋆⭒˚｡

✿ featuring: hajime umemiya, jo togame, haruka sakura, hayato suo, ren kaji ✿ fluff, mutual pining, hidden feelings (aaaa), suggestive for suo, a lil angst (with comfort) for kaji ✿ a/n: i guess by now everyone can tell that i’m very into the friends to lovers trope ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა~♡ it’s def my fav!!! and these wb bois are all perfect friend material, and ofc boyfriend material too! enjoy, cuties! ✿ wc: 2.3k

— you have a closely intimate friendship to the point that everyone around you thinks you two are dating, though you know you're not lovers (yet), but are definitely more than just friends.

ʚɞ umemiya 

— sharing hello and goodbye kisses with each other.

ꕤ you and umemiya are the definition of 'affectionate', as your love languages both consist of physical touch. but maybe with each other, a little bit too much for just friends.

ꕤ the word "boundaries" did not exist to the both of you once you were within arm's reach of each other. you and umemiya give each other hello and goodbye hugs, sometimes cheek and forehead kisses, as a greeting, right? to be friendly. though he doesn't seem to do that as often to other people, or at all, even. just to you. only to you. 

ꕤ he also loves cuddling up to you whenever he takes a nap on the rooftop, inviting you to join him in picking out some veggies that you two could make a meal together with.

ꕤ while you two were cooking together, you definitely gave off a 'married couple' vibe with the way you held the ladle up for umemiya to taste, the way he had pressed his palm to your back whenever he needed to pass through, the way he fed you with his own spoon and giggling while complimenting how delicious your cooking was, the way he wrapped his arms around you and hummed while he helped you wash the dishes. anyone who saw would have immediately bid their congratulations and would think you two are newlyweds.

ꕤ hiragi took one look at the both of you appearing all lovey-dovey, and the confusion of whether you two were dating or not made his stomach scrunch up in pain. 

ꕤ umemiya calls you such adorable names when referring to you in conversation, too. his tiny bean, his ray of sunshine, his cherry blossom, it was always "his", as if you belonged to him. he was openly affectionate with you and was not afraid to show it.

ꕤ many guys also took a liking to you, but never attempted to even make a move or confess, because they were already under the assumption that you were umemiya's, seeing you two playing with each other's fingers and comparing hand sizes like you were made for each other. but how could that be, you and umemiya were just friends, weren't you?

ʚɞ suo 

— you get a special seat (on his lap).

ꕤ suo just can't seem to keep his eyes and his hands off of you. you always have to be within his vicinity, or he's not sure how he'll be able to stand it. 

ꕤ he sees you at the corner of his eye, after you have made your way back from the restroom. you and the other bofurin first years were at an izakaya, and the moment you returned, all of their eyes were glued to you and suo, as if they already knew something was going to ensue. you two have been friends for a long time, but the way you acted towards each other felt like you two have been lovers for a long time.

ꕤ suo was always up in your space, whether its pulling random pranks on you, inviting you to go out then paying for everything even though you tried to stop him (nothing can stop suo), visiting your home and leaving an endless supply of tea enough to last you a whole year - his excuse being it's there for whenever he comes over, and multiple instances which all prove that suo was no doubt a very clingy friend. not that you minded, anyway. you were used to suo and his antics.

ꕤ he had his ways of persuading you too (he is the master of negotiation, after all), and you just couldn't resist him, as you loved being around suo just as much. 

ꕤ this time, he took advantage of your short absence and made himself comfortable in your chair, and wouldn't even move an inch. "hayato, that's my seat!" you exclaimed. "hm?" suo tilts his head. "you can just sit on my lap, then." he smiles, with that damn mischievous smile you know all too well. you tried to get him to move by gently pushing him back and forth but suo seemed to not have a care in the world. 

ꕤ you can't tell whether suo is serious or joking sometimes, but nirei and sakura seems to have their doubts that you two are "just friends" as you both claim.  "are you sure the two of you aren't dating?" nirei asks you. sakura blushes and lets you know his thoughts, too. "y-yeah...! you two are unusually close!" you always reply to them with an astounding "no!" but suo just laughs and does not affirm nor deny any of their claims. 

ꕤ suo pulls you in close, making you sit on his lap regardless of your little outburst, and you weren't sure if it was hot in the izakaya, or if it's just you, but you certainly felt warmth overcome your body while it was pressed flush against his, his arms wrapped around your waist nonchalantly. "hayato!" you protested, trying to squirm your way out of his grasp, and pushing away all intrusive thoughts about his and your bottom halves being so close together, only separated by thin pieces of clothing.

ꕤ nirei, the most observant of the bunch (next to suo), points out that you even call suo by his first name, and that's another one of the reasons why you two seem like you're dating. 

ꕤ with suo, everything seems to be a mystery. but in suo's perspective, it's all clear. he loves you, whether it's as a friend or as a lover, that's for him to know and for you to find out. 

ʚɞ togame 

— leaves everyone on read except you.

ꕤ togame just doesn't understand why people need to type out what they want to say, aren't calls more personalized? he didn't understand at all, until he met you.

ꕤ you were, to put it directly, a chatterbox in all forms. you loved to talk, regardless if it's chats, calls, or in person, you just yapped your heart out to him everytime, and he lives for it. he wouldn't miss a second of you opening your mouth and giving him a taste of your innermost thoughts. he absolutely adored talking to you, because it was you, and you were special to him.

ꕤ the shishitoren guys thought it was so funny and adorable whenever togame picks up his phone so quickly because he thought it was you calling, then scowls when he realizes it isn't, and immediately silences it and shoves it back in his pocket. this caused him to set a different ringtone just for you, so he could pick up on the very first ring.

ꕤ you were also the first reply he ever sent via sms, a simple "ok" to your long message talking about how you thought it was amazing that he won the town's annual eating contest for many consecutive years in a row and that you were totally ready to challenge him next year by stuffing your face with okonomiyaki and invited togame to join you and have some with you so you could keep an eye on the competition. he found your personality totally amusing, his face immediately lighting up with a gentle smile whenever you sent him messages.

ꕤ anyone who sees how happy he is while he rereads your texts over and over would interpret that as togame being totally, irrevocably, head over heels in love with you.

ꕤ he doesn't actually reply to anyone at all ever, but he wanted to share all his firsts with you, he just couldn't help it. you were captivating, witty in your words, and very very charismatic, bombarding him with the cutest and funniest messages everyday. of course, he doesn't mind at all and is always looking forward to them.

ꕤ you two stay on calls for longer than eight hours at a time talking about how each other's day went, and yet you wonder why people always think you two are dating. normal friends don't stay up until the break of dawn chattering for hours on end, expressing all the things they like about each other, do they? at least togame knows he wouldn't do it with anyone that wasn't you, as he valued his precious sleep time dearly, but as time went on, you became more precious and more dear to him than his sleep time ever could.

ʚɞ kaji 

— play fighting like an old married couple.

ꕤ kaji is the type to never go down without a fight. needless to say, that also applies to you. but your fights with him were different, more banter adjacent, more affectionate and playful. only lasting for a few minutes.

ꕤ kaji had a huge soft spot for you, as even though you did irritate the heck out of him sometimes, somehow he still could not stay angry or annoyed at you for more than one second. he just couldn't resist the way you crossed your arms and huffed with your cute little frown. he thought you were the most adorable angry little thing he's ever seen and wanted to pinch your cheeks out of cuteness aggression and frustration, but he would never say it to your face.

ꕤ one time, you two had a heated argument because he said he could hear you just fine but wouldn't bother to take off his headphones. you argued that it was impolite and that you won't talk to him at all anymore if he does that again, and you two were at each other's throats, giving one another a piece of your mind, until kaji mutters a 'sorry', and you began to sob uncontrollably and let him hold you in his arms while he stroked your hair to comfort you because you two couldn't stand the intensity and tension of being angry at each other for long.

ꕤ you had your less serious fights too, like when you made him a bento box for lunch and you two had a picnic together with his vice captains. you fed him the food with your chopsticks, kaji teasing you by saying "it's bland." and you reasoning out that kaji was 'as salty as his tastebuds'. kaji then asked you if you wanted to have 'a taste of his fists', which ended up with kusumi and enomoto snickering in the background wishing that the both of you would just date each other already.

ꕤ whenever you two argued, your faces were so close to one another's that you were just a few centimeters shy from kissing, the tip of your noses touching. kaji had to hold himself back, a lot. like an insane amount. friends didn't want to kiss and make out with their friends, right? but kaji did. and you did too.

ꕤ his way of apologizing is by suddenly leaving a lollipop with you. he puts them in your bag, or places them in your pocket while you weren't looking. it was his little peace offering, one that you treasured and collected, accumulating dozens of them by your bedside table. kaji would gladly give up his last lollipop for you, and no one could argue otherwise.

ʚɞ sakura 

— blushing wildly whenever you two are around each other.

ꕤ you and sakura always looked like you two were having a blushing competition. the littlest touches and the most minimal contact had both of your cheeks heating up in response.

ꕤ it was like sakura's blushing was contagious. ever since you two became good friends (if you could call it that, though it seemed to be more than that at times), being around him triggered a whole bunch of embarrassing and hilarious but sweet situations.

ꕤ you once dragged sakura off to his very first cherry blossom viewing in the park, and needless to say, with both of you being a chaotic (but cute) duo, it kind of felt like you were on a wild rollercoaster ride with him. 

ꕤ you took a stolen photo of sakura while he was mesmerized by the falling pink petals. you thought he looked adorable, but sakura thought otherwise. he was a blushing mess and told you to delete them, but you said they were cute and that you were going to make it your wallpaper. 

ꕤ sakura chased after you, and tripped over a stray cherry blossom branch, leaving you two in quite a suggestive position, sakura on top of you, pinning your wrist down with his hand. your cheeks were as pink as the cherry blossoms, and tried as you might, you couldn't keep your eyes off his lips. friends don't observe their friends with wanting eyes, do they? 

ꕤ suo and nirei instantly noticed how huge of a klutz you were around sakura. they also noticed how curious sakura was about you, always (not so subtly) asking nirei how much he knew about you, or your likes and dislikes, then asked him not to tell you that he asked about you. but suo told you instead, because they were your biggest supporters and cheerleaders (and biggest shippers, of course) after all. 

ꕤ on sakura's birthday, they made you hold the cake and surprise him, which was a huge mistake, because before it could even reach him, you slipped and fell over him. luckily, sakura had good reflexes and was able to catch you before you completely toppled over. some of the smushed cake ended up on his and your face, which you tried to wipe off as you apologized, but sakura dipped his finger onto the icing that got on your cheek and licked his finger. "t-the cake's not bad, i guess..." he looked away from your smiling face as you greeted him happy birthday in a sing-song tune.

ꕤ suo, being a menace, greeted sakura happy birthday as well as gave him a 'best wishes to the happy couple' greeting card, that sakura threw back at him like it had a virus on it. 

ꕤ sakura definitely had a memorable birthday that year, but now that he thought about it, all of his memories that were memorable to him had one thing in common: you were in all of them. you, the greatest gift he could ever ask for on any and every occasion. 

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

a little wip for u guys cuz i’m gonna be busy this week <3 (also @bisexuallsokka , you know what this is for)

ft. bonus sketchy panic

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

“hold your tongue...Unless you gon’ lick on my clit-!!”

synopsis: Unbeknownst to you, you did something to make both Argenti and Boothill mad….so now you’re gonna make them happy.

tags: poly relationship, vulgar, explicit, cunnalingus, fingering, clit play, nipple play, pet names, etc.

wrd cnt: 0.9k

a/n: this was a request and it just has to be as freaky as possible

Your relationship with the knight and the cowboy is something only believable in a fairy tale. Except…”fairy tale” sounds quite too amateur and misleading.

This was more like a risqué story you tell your bestfriends at a sleepover when you’re too drowsy to have shame.

Argenti and Boothill are two very…conflicting entities. With you in the picture, it’s a harmony. Except the times when you somehow become the main point of both their anger and pay the price, not like you’re unwilling.

How could you be when they’re both between your thighs, hungrily eyeing at your dripping pussy before Boothill blows air onto your already sensitive clit, cooing at your sharp reflex. While Argenti soothes your thigh, giving you a few kisses that only heighten your arousal before both of the men use one strong hand to push your plush thighs open, exposing yourself even more to them. Don’t even dare to try to shut your thighs even a bit, they'd be pushed right back open, along with a quick slap on your plush skin.

All the heat in the air would naturally cause some bickering, Argenti and Boothil were already mad, and could barely come to a consensus on who gets the first taste of you. The air was thick with tension, you could barely breathe. Or maybe it was your excitement.

Argenti being the gentleman that he is, gave it up to Boothill.

The gunslinger wastes no time spitting on your clit before wrapping his lips around it, tongue immediately caressing your sensitive pearl. He couldn't decide between roughly sucking on the poor thing or moving his tongue side to side, all while Argenti kissed and nipped on the soft skin of your thighs while his hand finds itself on your bare breast, squeezing roughly every once in a while to keep you on your toes. His favorite thing to see is your nipples getting harder, and they always did when under his thumb.

He can only be so generous for so long, kissing his way towards your center before nudging Boothill head with his own; both their tongues massaging and rubbing against each others while fighting over your clit. Their eyes both glued up to watch your expression, each hand of yours stuck on both of their heads, tangles in different shades of hair.

"A-Ah!!! please-" your back suddenly arched off the bed as you felt two hot tongues on your clit. Not knowing whose name to moan out. Argentis moving up and down, like he were trying to savor the taste of your essence—not too hard or too fast....just sensual. Boothills tongue on the other hand, settled on quick harsh licks that made you twitch, his tongue flat on your clit before he sucks on it harder.

"s'good right? hm darlin’?" Boothil slurred into your pussy, sloppily kissing his way down to your dripping hole. Argenti took this as an opportunity to cup your entire clit in his mouth, hid two fingers spreading your folds apart more; revealing more surface area for him to enjoy. He hummed around your clit, spit dribbling from his lips from the sloppy kisses he was giving your weeping pussy.

As soon as you felt Boothill shove his tongue in your pussy, your back arches slightly off the bed as you came with a loud, pathetic whine. He moaned almost just as much when he felt your cum began to coat his tongue in little waves.

Argenti, pulled away from your clit with an obnoxious pop. Red eyes admiring at the mess your pussy has already become. "Saved some for me, right?," he mumbled, leaning his head down to lick a slow strip up your pussy. His long finger ran slowly up and down your petal soft slit, occasionally applying light pressure to your clit. Without any warning he plunged two fingers in with a lewd squelching sound following Boothills interruption of: "we're supposed to be sharing- don't be so greedy!

“please-just be gentle m'still a little— hah! sensitiveeee," you request. It went from synchronized licks, to absolutely destruction of your perception of cumming. You felt your body react in ways you didn’t think possible before.

You tried to keep your eyes on them but you could only handle so much before you head fell back against your bed, eyes rolling into the back of your head. "You like my fingers inside you, don’t you, sweet thing?," Argenti spoke into your thigh, giving it a sweet kiss before plunging two fingers inside you again. His fingers began doing a scissoring motion, and to help you avoid the stinging stretch Boothill sucked your throbbing clit in his mouth. What a great team.

“gonna cu-cum again, you're gonna make me-" your body tensed as another orgasm washed over you, a pleasing sight for the two men before you. "Fuck she's squeezing me real fucking tight, feels that good baby? Boothill growled, curling his fingers in the most delicious way possible to make you feel it even more.

Eventually, you felt the stretch of four fingers inside.

"oh-… my fucking.." your mouth dropped as both men began to move their fingers at a synchronized pace, digits bumping against that special spot inside they knew you liked so much.

Argenti eyed your lonely breast and brought his free hand up to tweak at your nipple, Boothill following.

“look at how wet she is.... dripping all over the fucking bed, I though my oil changes were messy… " Boothill chuckles, him and Argenti already in a agreeance that this was just the beginning.

Wait…why were they even mad at you again!!?!

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[drewsephrry]

2k celebration masterlist

outer banks

rafe cameron

cleaning him up after a fight

panic attack

makeup sex during a rainstorm

drunk bar bathroom sex

filming having sex

depression sex

airplane sex

jj maybank

'us'

'heaven'

being unable to stay mad at each other

lunchtime

dressing room teasing

filming having sex

shower sex

drewsephrry's masterlist

thank you to everyone who contributed in reaching 2k followers!! i am so grateful for each and every one of you, thank you for showing me love and support!! thank you to the people who requested for this celebration cause they really helped me with my huge writer's block i had, but also helped me become better!! thank you to my mutuals who reblog/comment/send asks who i love so so so freaking much!! i have so much stuff prepared and i cannot wait to post for you guys!! love you all, hope you are ok 💋🤍

[jo-speaks]

UNDER CONTROL

OVERVIEW: after quinn's captaincy skills are put to the test, you want nothing more than to help him relax.

WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. bondage play, unprotected sex, p in v, etc.

note: atp, it's tradition for me to write a smut piece after every game.

wc: 2279

The game against Columbus had been a hard watch. 

Being sat on the couch in your and Quinn’s shared apartment was becoming increasingly more and more difficult the more the game carried on. During the first period, you couldn’t help but be a little frustrated at the lack of effort shown on the ice. 

However, your frustrations only grew during the last two periods. Watching Quinn and the rest of his teammates get assaulted every other second fueled your emotions, causing you to lash out at the TV due to the refs who seemed to be blind.

By the time the game had come to an end, resulting in a win for the Canucks, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated at everything that had transpired within the hours of the night. You knew Quinn would be happy with the win, but you also knew him well enough that he would be feeling the physical results of it too.

Once you received his text that he would be home in less than ten minutes, having found an alternate route to avoid the Vancouver traffic, your brain scrambled to think of ideas on how to make his night a little bit easier, not only on his body but on his mind.

You started by popping some leftover pizza into the microwave, knowing Quinn would eat anything you put in front of him, not caring what it was. Next, you brought out the fluffy pillows from the closet and laid them out on the couch, lighting some random Yankee candle you had found in there as well. Just as the microwave beeped and you put out one of Quinn’s favorite books on the coffee table, the front lock clicked, indicating he had arrived. 

Fumbling with your hands, you quickly walked over to the kitchen to pull the pizza out of the microwave and bringing it back over to the couch. 

“Hey.” You greeted, walking over to the doorway to kiss him.

He tiredly kissed you back, small droplets of water falling from his hair and onto your forehead, “Hi.”

“Congrats on the win, hot shot.” 

Quinn chuckled, “Thanks. Do you wanna order in or are you cooking?”

You smiled sheepishly, “Um, I actually just heated up some of the leftover pizza from a few days ago. I got too caught up in the game to actually… cook.”

He quickly noticed the embarrassment flood your face and he was quick to put a stop to it. He kissed your cheek, “You watched the game?”

“Always do. I just normally don’t get too into them, you know? But this one was really good”

Quinn let out a sigh before nodding. You could tell he was tired of standing, so you slid his hockey bag off of his shoulder and set it down on the floor. As you guided him over to sit on the couch, you couldn’t help but want to do more to help him relax. 

“Do you need anything? Water? Gatorade?” You questioned the second he sat down on the soft cushions. 

“Could you grab me a gato from the fridge?” 

You nodded, quickly making your way to the fridge and making your way back just as fast that you were surprised you hadn’t slipped, “Anything else?”

Quinn furrowed his eyebrows, “No thanks. Are you okay? You seem really jittery.”

It wasn’t hard to read you, but you were worried about the toll his body had taken during the game that you couldn’t help it. Your lack of a response caused Quinn to start to worry himself, doing the exact opposite of what you wanted to do.

He tugged you down onto the couch gently, allowing you to settle your tense body against his. It was silent as you let out a breath, easing into his touch. As you nestled your face into his chest, he winced, his body pulling back instinctively.

You pulled away quickly, “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

Quinn shook his head, “No it wasn’t you. Just got a bit roughed up tonight.”

You gave him a look, silently asking if you could lift up his shirt to see what exactly he meant by “roughed up.”. He tensed at your gaze, nodding subtly as he allowed your hands to lift up the fabric. It was hard to see the patch of purpled and slightly yellow skin spread across his chest and you couldn’t help but grimace at the sight. 

“If anything my head hurts more than this. I promise it looks worse than it feels.” He lied, not wanting to worry you further. “I got it under control.”

Quinn had always been one to try and shake things off himself, but after tonight he desperately wanted to distract himself from not only the pain but also to forget about how the night had started.

The first period had been rough, especially for him. It was a low-effort skate from everyone and that’s exactly what the fans were seeing. He struggled to think of ways to encourage his team or even help them out, but there’s only so much one guy can do.

When they entered the locker room he was determined to shift gears. Tocchet was barely able to get a word out before Quinn took the lead, getting his team back into a winning mindset. He was always looking for ways to improve himself and the team, and if they could focus and get their heads back into the game, he knew that would show that improvement. 

What he hadn’t expected was the mental toll it would take on him. He was exhausted both mentally and physically. He wanted nothing more than to get home and fall asleep since he expected you to already be in bed. But when he saw you awake and attentive to his needs, he wanted to simply sit and enjoy your presence.

“I can tell you’re tired, Quinn. Can I do anything or do you just want to head to bed?”

“There is one thing you can do for me.” He smiled, instantly gaining your attention, “Kiss me?”

You blushed at his request, slowly leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. “Better?”

Quinn smirked, “Think you might need to do it a few more times.”

Compiling, you kissed him again, letting this one linger a bit longer before pulling away again, an expectant look on your face, and a non-amused one on Quinn’s. He let out a sigh before pulling your leg over his lap, allowing you to straddle him. Bringing a hand up, he entangled his fingers gently in your hair, pushing your head slightly towards him to connect again.

It quickly began getting heated, a soft kiss turning into a full-blown make out session on the couch. Your hands wandered across his upper body, beginning to tug his shirt up when your knuckles made contact with his bruise, causing him to bite down harshly on your lip. 

You yelped at the pain but also realized what you had done causing you to pull away from him. “I’m so sorry,” Quinn reassured you quickly, trying to pull you back in, but you pushed against his force. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this tonight, I don’t wanna hurt you, Q.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. You’re not gonna hurt me.” 

“I just did! You’re hard not to touch, and I just don’t want to make it worse.” You mumbled, shying away from his touch and trying to return to your previous spot on the couch. 

Quinn was quick to stop you, “You trust me?”

You nodded, the question being a no-brainer. Quinn sat you down on the couch, walking over to the doorway to fetch something out of his bag. You weren’t sure what it was until he sat back down, returning you to your previous straddling position. 

“Quinn, what are you-?”  He cut you off, taking your hands behind your back, pushing you gently to lean a little bit forward, tying the fabric of his suit tie around your wrists and securing it tightly behind you.

“Now you can’t hurt me. So please, shut up and kiss me.”

His boldness caught you off guard but you had no time to be surprised as he tugged you down to kiss you yet again, You moaned against his mouth, the feeling of being restrained shooting a thrill throughout your body. 

The apartment suddenly felt hot and you knew it wasn’t just you who was feeling it. Quinn reluctantly pulled away, laying you down on your back as he stripped himself of his shirt and pants, his boxers coming down with them. 

Your mouth fell agape at the sight, but he had no time to notice as he hastily pulled off your bottoms, throwing them somewhere on the floor below you. 

“So fucking beautiful, baby.” He admired, shifting his body to hover above yours.

You wanted to tug on his hair desperately, but they were still bound behind your back, “Q, please. Wanna touch you.” 

Quinn chuckled, “Wanted you to touch me too, but you were so worried. Let me help us relax, yeah? I think we deserve it.” 

A whine was all that escaped your lips, bringing a smile to Quinn’s face. He sat you up yet again, his smile quickly replaced by his lips parting as he guided your hips to lower down onto him. You moaned softly at his pace, taking his sweet time to dwell on the feeling before bottoming out. 

He didn’t move, his hands resting tightly on your hips as he felt his muscles decompress. “You wanna do me a favour, sweet girl?”

You nodded, “What do you need, Q?”

Quinn looked up at you with tired eyes, “Fuck yourself on my cock.” Your eyes widened at his vulgarity, “I worked so hard tonight. Think I deserve it, don’t you?”

Too stunned to respond verbally, you pressed your body up slightly by using your legs, before letting yourself drop back down. Quinn groaned at your movements, fingertips digging deeper into your skin. 

You repeated the motion, setting a gentle, soft speed in order to let him relax and indulge in the pleasure. It felt good for you too, but you were fighting to resist the urge to go faster. You found yourself so lost in thought that you barely registered the feeling of Quinn’s hips snapping up to meet yours, picking up the pace slightly before settling back down and letting you take over.

“Fuck, Y/N. Feels so good.” He moaned, letting his head fall back onto the couch. 

Leaning forward, you began to litter kisses on his neck, eventually switching to suck on his skin, leaving purple marks along his shoulders and collarbone. Quinn sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your lips on his skin as well as at the feeling of the relatively slow pace he had managed to keep you at.

“You’re so perfect.” He babbled, losing himself in the pleasure, “So sweet to me, ready to help me relax after such a long night.”

You whimpered at his words, the sweetness of them rushing straight to your core. “Quinn.”

Quinn perked his head up slightly, “Yeah? What do you need, baby?”

“Need to go faster. Please.” You begged, the slow tempo becoming unbearable.

He nodded, using his hands to guide you into a quicker speed, your hips dropping onto his faster than they had before. The desperate desire to cum was increasing by the second, and Quinn knew it by the way your moans got louder and your walls clenched tighter around him. 

You were trying your best to keep up with the pace you had longed for, but the burn in your thighs was getting harder to ignore and with your hands being bound behind your back, there wasn’t much you could do to support yourself, “Quinn…” 

“Tired already?” He teased, grabbing your jaw so you’d face him, “Imagine how I felt tonight, baby. Got shoved and slashed every time I got the puck.”

You cried out, the knot in your stomach getting closer and closer to snapping. “My hands! Please, Quinn. Please.” 

Quinn only wanted to push you so far, so keeping your hands tied at this point just seemed cruel. He tussled with the tie for a moment before unwrapping the knot, letting your hands breathe. One immediately found his shoulder, using the newly added support to help them speed up to a pace that had Quinn moaning, while the other found a home in his brown locks in order to avoid his bruise. 

“Fuck. Gonna make me cum.” He groaned, “Don’t stop, Y/N.”

His words alone were enough to tip you over the edge. You whined as you let go, body trembling as you submitted to the euphoria, face dropping to rest on his shoulder. The feeling of you leaking all over him caused Quinn to cry out, his release coating your walls white as he nipped at your neck to muffle his sounds. 

Your connected bodies stayed limp, heavy breathing echoing off the walls as you both came to. You were the first to move, pressing a kiss on his shoulder before tilting your head to the side to get a look at him. 

Quinn’s eyes stayed shut, chest heaving as calmed himself down, his body feeling at ease for the first time in 24 hours. 

“Relaxed?” You asked, leaning up so you could look at his face properly.

He blinked his eyes open to meet yours, “Definitely. We should really do that after every game.”

You laughed softly, pressing a loving kiss on his lips that he gladly reciprocated, “If it makes you feel better.”

[polmcarts]

Commission for @loganelfreeces. Thank you very much!

Spiderverse AU Choji, Sakura and Togame inspired this fic!

Very fun to help desinging the suits since its my first time trying something like this!

[scuderiahalf]

wild child — daniel ricciardo

pairing. platonic!daniel ricciardo x verstappen!f1a driver!fem!reader

summary. your uncle has another thing coming if he thinks you’ll idly sit there and take whatever he throws at you. alternatively, the story of how jos verstappen got his shit rocked by a sixteen-year-old girl. 1.6k

warnings. description of injury, referenced physical violence, themes of domestic and child abuse, mention of jos verstappen

masterlist.

.

Daniel watched with a wary smile as you joked around with your Prema teammates across the way. Dino said something that had Ollie covering your ears while jokingly scolding the other boy. You elbowed Ollie in the side and pointed at Kimi, probably complaining that you were less than a year younger than the Italian.

You were acting completely normal. Everything seemed fine and normal and totally cool. You gave no hint that anything was out of the ordinary, that anything was wrong. You smiled just as you always did.

But Daniel couldn’t ignore the swelling of your cheek, the bruise under your eye, the split of your lip.

Prema’s statement about the state of your face had said that you had gotten into a physical altercation that you had not instigated and that the perpetrator had been dealt with as necessary. Daniel had a really bad feeling about who said perpetrator was.

The VCARB driver wet his lips. He had to say something. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t. You needed to know you had people you could go to. You needed to hear it spoken plainly. He needed to extend a hand, whether or not you took it.

This wasn’t something he could sit in regret with. Daniel already regretted never saying anything to Max, never asking the important questions back when Max had still been skinny and ruddy-faced.

Daniel still didn’t know the full story there. He’s sure if he did, he should never be allowed in a room with Jos Verstappen ever again.

Daniel hated to see history repeating itself. He hated seeing Jos look at you like he looked at Max, like you were some prized race horse purpose-bred to win. Like you could win the Formula One World Drivers’ Championship and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Daniel didn’t know everything about Max and his father but he knew how Max acted, knew how he thought of himself, knew how his childhood still affected him today.

Daniel didn’t want that for you. If he could help you in any way, he had to try.

He caught you in Red Bull hospitality later in the weekend, when you were separated from the other Prema kids and eating lunch while scrolling on your phone.

“Y/N/N!” he greeted you with false enthusiasm. “Can I sit with you?”

You just smiled amusedly. “Knock yourself out, Ric.”

You and Daniel had always gotten on.

Before you got serious about racing and moved to Holland to live with your uncle, Daniel had only heard mention of you as Max’s favorite cousin. Starting two years ago, you had been making more and more appearances in the paddock as your relocation to Europe had given Max easy access to take you on field trips to various Grand Prix.

You had been uncharacteristically funny for a fourteen-year-old. Not in a mean or sarcastic way but genuinely funny with jokes and stories always ready to go. Daniel had liked you from the first time you had met.

Now, you were sixteen and you looked so much older but when Daniel looked at you, all he could see was that scrawny fourteen-year-old kid who had to have ten kilos of lead welded to her seat to meet the karting weight requirement.

Every time he looked too hard at the cut on your lip or the persistent redness of your right cheek, he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt that funny, lovable little kid, or the young woman you were becoming who was still so full of life and humor.

“Daniel? You good? Do I have something on my face? Besides the obvious.”

Daniel forced out a laugh. “No. No, you’re fine. I was just wondering… How did you get that shiner?”

“Lost a fight with a revolving door. They’re vicious creatures, I tell ya.”

Daniel didn’t laugh. He barely managed a polite smile.

“Wow, tough crowd—yeah, it was Jos. I know that’s what you’re asking.”

You had always called your uncle that: Jos. Just Jos. Never Uncle Jos. Or Oom Jos, or however it would be said it in Dutch.

Your verbal detachment from your uncle didn’t make it any easier to stomach the thought of the man hitting you. Was this the first time? Had he done it before? How often? How severely? How had no one noticed?

“Y/N,” Daniel started, trying to approach the subject as gently as he originally planned, “You know you have so many people who care about you and would never want to see you kept in an unsafe environment? You have people you can turn to if you need help. Max, me, the people at Prema—“

“Did Max not tell you what happened? I figure he would have told you the story already. It’s pretty hilarious, in hindsight.”

What about this situation could ever be construed as hilarious? Daniel would admit he had a bad habit of making everything into a joke but this was a step too far, even for him.

“Y/N, I’m being serious. If Jos is hurting you, it has to be taken care of.”

“Believe me, I took care of it.”

Daniel just looked at you.

“Max really hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“So, I made that post about pride month on the first, right? Just ‘happy pride month’ in the caption of my insta post? Well, Jos decided that he wouldn’t have that under his roof and when I called him a ‘homophobic wife beater,’ he slapped me. Backhanded me, actually.”

Daniel was still failing to find even the slightest bit of humor in your story.

“So, I beat the shit out of him.”

Daniel blinked. “You what.”

“I beat the—I don’t know how else you want me to say it.”

“I’m not understanding…”

“He put his hands on me, so I rocked his shit. Kicked him in the dick. Slammed his face into the kitchen counter and broke his nose. Probably bruised a rib or two.

“He’s at home nursing his pride, I’m pretty sure. I’ve been staying with Max in Monaco ever since. It’s a real ‘you should see the other guy’ situation.”

Daniel thought he was having an aneurysm. His brain couldn’t decide if he should continue to insist that you could leave your unsafe home life or if he wanted to feed into the inarguably hilarious mental images of Jos Verstappen getting beat up by a sixteen-year-old girl.

The internal battle must have shown on his face because you said, “You can laugh. It’s pretty funny.”

No. No, he needed to be an adult and not feed into your interpretation of the events being funny. It wasn’t funny that Jos raised a hand to you. It wasn’t funny that you had to defend yourself from a grown man you were meant to be able to trust.

But then Daniel couldn’t stop imagining a semi-cartoonish version of your uncle curled on the ground, blood pouring from his nose as you stand above him, laughing maniacally with a foot on Jos’ side like a big game hunter.

“It’s not funny,” he barely managed to get out before he started laughing along with the triumphant caricature of you in his mind.

The you that sat across from him grinned. “No, it is 100% funny. He obviously didn’t know anything about me whatsoever if he thought I’d just let him get away with that. He started that fight, and I ended it.”

Daniel just laughed harder. You grinned even wider.

“No—it’s not funny! I swear, it’s really not.” Daniel collected himself as best he could, tried to look at you seriously. “Y/N, you can’t keep living with him. He can’t keep managing you.”

“I know. Prema’s already worked it out. They’ve found me a new manager and I’m staying with Max; he’s helping set me up in an apartment in his building.

“My mom is furious. She had to be escorted out of the hospital when she flew in to talk to Jos. She might have broken his nose a second time. I don’t know. I wasn’t there, unfortunately. Jos isn’t allowed within a hundred meters of me until I’m 18.”

That guilty, worried part of Daniel that had started festering as soon as he had read Prema’s statement about your altercation finally laid itself to rest. Everything was handled. You were safe.

“Y/N, I—“

Daniel didn’t really know how to put into words just how relieved he was. He didn’t know how to say how much he cared about you, how glad he was that you had gotten out of what could have been a terrible situation.

“I know.”

Luckily, you understood. Daniel didn’t have to stumble over the words. That was another thing about you that Daniel adored: you were intuitive.

“I’m talking through it with my therapist. But I’ll be fine. I feel fine. I’m not going to let Jos ruin me before my career’s even really started. I’ve still got a season of F1 Academy to win.”

Daniel had a feeling you were telling him this not because you needed someone to talk to but because you knew it was what he needed to hear. Relief settled even further onto his shoulders.

“Spoken like a true Verstappen,” he joked.

“My last name is L/N.”

“You still belong to the Verstappen clan.”

You giggled. “I hail from House Verstappen.”

“Exactly. Just like Game of Thrones.”

You fall into easy laughter alongside Daniel.

You were laughing. Your bruises would fade and you would remain unchanged. You would race later that day and continue leading your championship just as your cousin led his.

Ultimately, you were undamaged. You were safe.

And you also had one hell of a story to write a memoir about in thirty years.

[slytherinshua]

♡　LOVE EXPLOSION　( エンティーム )

      in which . . . you get cuteness aggression for your boyfriend and try to squish his cheeks.

genre fluff , headcanons , est. relationship , &team x fem!reader   cw just kisses , not proofread   wc 900ish (100 per member)    request no   note where's my boyfriend so i can squish his cheeks and give him kisses i am not okay   net @lune-net @kstrucknet

KOGA YUDAI ﾐ 古賀祐大

Giggles as soon as your hands are on his face. He can’t tell you why he finds it so funny, but something about you struggling to even reach to hold his face in your hands and squish his cheeks makes his heart all warm and a big smile grow on his face. Before you can kiss him or even say anything, he’s already teasing you. Will probably squish your cheeks back, agreeing that he also gets the urge to just hold you and coo over your face because of how cute you are in his eyes. 

MURATA FUMA ﾐ 村田風雅

You can’t really catch this man by surprise. As soon as you’re grabbing his cheeks, he’s grabbing your waist, and asking you what’s up. When you just say you wanted to admire him, he will smile at you lovingly. Bends down a bit so you have better access to his face, and of course, gives you the same treatment minutes later. Fuma’s always so gentle and patient, so if this was a common occurrence, he would get used to it quickly. Doesn’t quite understand why you feel the urge to squish your boyfriend’s face almost every day, but he wouldn’t question it either.

BYUN EUIJOO ﾐ 변의주

Pauses whatever he was telling you as soon as you grab his face, because he assumes it’s something serious. First looks at you with big concerned eyes, but slowly his smile grows once he realizes that you’re looking at him as if he hung the stars in the sky. Closes his eyes in shock as soon as you start pressing kisses to his nose. Will grab your wrists and remove your hands, just to return the favour with lots of kisses of his own. Probably asks what it was for minutes later, which would lead to the action just repeating.

WANG YIXIANG ﾐ 王奕翔

Immediately throws out questions trying to understand what prompted you to grab his face so suddenly. “What are you do—” Is successfully shut up when you kiss his face and giggle at how cute he is. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion because he can’t recall trying to be cute at all. Let’s you leave kisses all around his face; cheeks, forehead, nose, lips, anywhere you need. Definitely enjoys the attention from you, however, he always racks his brain trying to figure out why you’re squishing his cheeks for the third time, and simply can’t because the cuteness aggression always comes spontaneously. 

NAKAKITA YUMA ﾐ 中耒田悠真

It’s no secret that you can get away with much more than the normal person because you’re Yuma’s girlfriend. But still, you should be a little careful, cause as soon as you grab his cheeks to squish, he’s giving you a signature kitty glare looking like he might swipe at you. But, since you’re his girlfriend and he loves you, he lets you shower him with sickeningly sweet words while he stands there like 🧍. Definitely rolls his eyes at least once— he’s really not the lovey dovey PDA type of boyfriend. But secretly deep down, his heart flutters a bit at your gesture. 

ASAKURA JO ﾐ 朝倉穣

Looks up at you with his big doe eyes, genuinely confused as to why you’re squishing his cheeks and cooing at him as if he’s a baby. But for some reason his stomach is also somersaulting with butterflies and he isn’t quite sure why he finds the action so flustering. Ears and cheeks turn a bright shade of red as soon as you start peppering his whole face with kisses, and he’s left a stuttering mess for at least a couple minutes because why would you do that so suddenly without warning him. 

SHIGETA HARUA ﾐ 重田美琉愛

Doesn’t even register in his brain that it’s a sign of affection. You could be spilling all the cutest words about him while holding his face in your hands and he’d be raising an eyebrow trying to figure out what all this was about. A little bit lost and confused at times when it comes to this type of affection, but once you explain the concept of cuteness aggression to him, he would probably get it. Enjoys the extra kisses regardless and looks extremely adorable all confused, as if you can see the cogs in his brain turning slowly. 

TAKAYAMA RIKI ﾐ 高山りき

He’s so used to being the victim of cuteness aggression, especially when it comes to his cheeks. Because the members are already all over him. He doesn’t even seem fazed when you squish his cheeks and giggle over his cute dimples. But he does quickly get the idea that he finally has someone he can do it too as well, and will definitely start to squish your cheeks and give you extra kisses on a regular basis to try to balance out how much he receives. Becomes your go-to way to show affection with each other :( 

HIROTA RIKI ﾐ 宏田力

Thinks you’re doing it for a tiktok prank at first. “What trend is this?” As soon as he says that, you stop kissing his face and look at him, exasperated. He’ll quickly realize you were doing it just because, and let you continue without interruption. Probably rambles about how cute you two are as a couple afterwards and his neverending effect on you being credited to his rizz or effortless charm. You have to jokingly say you’ll never give him kisses again just to get him to shut up, cause his ego is that high. But at the end of it, you’ll both be laughing together (and he’ll return the kisses). 

&team taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @hursheys,, @loserlvrss

[octoberautumnbox]

Lips

Jo Yuri, IVE Ahn Yujin, IVE Jang Wonyoung, & Male Reader

a/n: idk blame frisky :nolookk:

~~~

You struggle against the makeshift shackles, your wrists taking on a light shade of red from the friction between the cloth restraints and the wooden armrests you're bound to. The top of the blindfold sips up your sweat, although it also distributes the salt over your eyelids as well. 

The hand on your cock momentarily leaves you, soon replaced by a pair of lips on either side of your shaft. Two tongues work eagerly to lick each other with your dick in between, all the while hushed, breathy moans emanate from their respective owners. The left pair of lips peppers tiny kisses up and down your length, while the right goes lower to the base of your cock and sucks your balls. 

You steady your breathing. It’s unknowable how much time has passed, though you wish it’s been the agreed-upon ten minutes and the girls are just toying with you. You try remembering how you got into this situation, but the tongue dragging itself up the underside of your cock clouds your mind and renders you useless, save for your base instincts wanting what either of them are giving you.

A set of long, slender fingers wraps around your shaft again, diligently pumping slow and hard, while the left repositions to pay special attention to your tip. Her tongue pokes out and swirls around the head, slathering her spit all over the tip and dripping down the rest of your length, only to make the handjob below slicker. 

“Oppa,” Yuri says, gently caressing your blindfold, “are you doing okay?”

“Mmh,” you say back, your loose makeshift gag failing at being a gag, but working wonders to help delay your orgasm. The flimsy cloth between your teeth steadily disintegrates each time you bite down, all the while you feel your knuckles turn white as you grip the wood harder in your palms. 

“You're doing great, Oppa, five more minutes.” Yuri's voice is like mad honey in your ears, dripping with a wild sweetness and venom that intoxicates but never kills. Two pairs of hands on your legs as the girls go back to worshipping your cock, coating your length in generous amounts of spit mixing together as they make out with you in between. 

Your breaths come shallow and urgent and desperate, just like the hand pumping your cock. You wouldn't dare guess now–not when you're so close to winning anyway. 

“Hands off, girls. Give him a second to breathe,” Yuri's voice calls from right next to your head. In less than a second, the pleasure stops, leaving only ghosts: lazily drying saliva on a now freezing, throbbing cock. You hear quiet smacks of lips against each other, or against the other's, no doubt licking up any stray drops of your precum to share between themselves. 

“If you wanted to make a guess, now would be the time,” Yuri finally muses after what felt like ages of drought. She says it in a way that coaxes out your bravery, though you know it's nothing but a trap. You have no way of knowing, no way of winning: wrong or right doesn't exist when Jo Yuri holds both in the palm of her hand. 

“... Left?” Her question strikes a chord in your chest anyway, tossing a wrench in your initial plans of just toughing it out. The hand returns with a renewed fervor, offering a devoted blowjob to speed up your decision. She rubs her tongue all along your length hastily, forcing an orgasm and their decisive victory. You could almost feel the threads of your gag tear apart between your teeth, but she stops just in time, leaving you less than breathless and more than willing to just surrender right then and there. A second more of the torture would've sent you barreling over the edge, but Yuri must have known not to push you that far. The girl by your lap to the left stops, most probably under Yuri's command, and the moment of reprieve is golden. 

“... Right?” Yuri's voice disappears as quickly as it arrives, and the girl on the other side of your lap takes your cock in up to her throat. She struggles with your length, caring more to take as much of you into her needy mouth as she can, rather than servicing you. Her blowjob is sloppy and careless, and the way her throat squeezes around your shaft is nothing short of heaven, though you know it's only an act to get you comfy enough to give up. Your orgasm nearly builds to its peak, but she stops again just in the nick of time, waved off again by Yuri's command. 

“Oppa, it's not fun if you don't guess… Hurry up,” she teases from behind you again. Her arms wrap around your chest while you feel her daintily pulling at your gag, taking it off. “We won't bite even if you get it wrong, I promise…”

What happens next is like a thunderclap right before an oncoming storm: a knock on the door followed by a muffled “Miss Jo, Miss Ahn, Miss Jang, please get ready to come to the main event area. We'll fetch you shortly.” And your suspicion is confirmed: Yuri kept you here for an hour. 

“Ehehe, oops. Sorry Oppa,” she giggles, tugging your gag away. You notice the shuffling of feet around you, no doubt the other two getting up off the floor while giggling as quietly as they can. She attempts to take your blindfold off too, but not before you jump at the chance to guess:

“Left… Wonyoung.” The world stops as you say it, and it's a good couple seconds before anyone can say anything else. The next line has no need to be said, but you take it anyway: “Right… Yujin.”

You know Yuri's sigh like the back of your hand; it's the one that she lets out while a quiet smile graces her lips. You hear it when you first kiss her neck at the start of a wild night, when you wrap your arm around her at the end before drifting to sleep, whenever she loses one of her little bets with you. 

She walks over to your front, and a small thud on the carpet means she's knelt down. Unmistakable are her full, plump lips on your shaft, her tiny hands on your thighs. She takes you into her mouth herself, accepting defeat like it was destined from the start. 

Your wrists are set free at the same time, and your blindfold is finally pulled off. What greets you first is not the dim light of the green room, not the sweet scents of Wonyoung to your left and Yujin to your right. What draws your attention is Yuri, on her knees, in her pretty white dress that shows off her cleavage like no other, taking your cock like she always does, and a little more: shameless, needy, and, this time, proud.

“Unnie, how’d he know?” Wonyoung asks with a naïve sort of innocence, like she didn't just take part in Yuri's little game. She places a hand on your chest from behind, feeling your heart beat out of your chest as the girl of your dreams sucks you off. 

“Lucky guess, probably,” Yujin answers, knowing Yuri would do anything to not be interrupted from sucking off her either smart or lucky, or both, boyfriend. Yujin drapes an arm around your chest, wrapping you in a hug, as the three of you watch their beloved unnie work her magic. 

All at once, the pressure peaks, your dam breaks, and Yuri knows it all: the two girls hold you back from pushing Yuri off, while she takes you into her throat as far as she can. Her throat squeezes and constricts in all the best ways, like the two of you know you were made for each other. She hollows out her cheeks, waiting impatiently, and her little game finally pays off. 

Your cum shoots out into her throat in generous spurts, and she takes it all; you relish in how her throat clenches around your cock, almost like she does it on purpose. Her tongue works to rub the underside of your cock wherever she can reach, all the while her head bobs up and down while she keeps sucking like it’s the one thing keeping her alive. You swear you’ll never find a girl like her ever again, and with how she shoots a look up to you, that signature mischievous look in her eye, you know the feeling is mutual. 

She takes each spurt like a champ, helping you through your release. Each load makes its way down her throat as the rhythmic gluck-gluck-gluck takes over your ears. She takes up every thought in your head, every emotion in your heart; you’re the one forcing your cock down her sinful throat yet she’s the one pulling your strings, as well as those of the two sultry vixens on either side of you. She winks a dangerous wink, and Yujin takes your lips with hers, with Wonyoung following with a trail of kisses along the vein in your neck. 

Once it’s all over and your orgasm dies down, Yuri returns you your peace: she pulls herself off without much issue, though she reaches for a nearby water to help everything down. Her smile never leaves her, and she watches for just a second how her dongsaengs shower you with her secondhand love.

“Alright, leave him alone. We gotta go,” she commands one last time, and Yujin practically tears herself off your face without so much as a hint of regret. Wonyoung is slower to detach, missing the way you twitched against her lips, all the while building excitement for what’s to come. 

“See you later, Oppa,” Wonyoung waves as she makes her way over to the door. She eyes Yujin still face to face with you, and Yujin comes back in for the last bit of tongue she can steal before joining Wonyoung at the door. “I hope you saved some for us, Oppa,” she taunts, and Yuri hands her her lipstick. The two leave together as if nothing happened in the green room, and if you really think about it, did anything happen in the green room?

Yuri finally comes over to you and sits on your lap, taking care not to stimulate you any further than she needs to. “You held out for ten minutes–” “An hour,” you interject, and she giggles as if it absolves her of not holding up her end of the deal. 

“For an hour, but you know I love you, right? And don’t tell me it wasn’t good.” Yuri wraps her arms around your neck and leans on your shoulder, taking comfort as if taking her time and taking your cum wasn’t enough. “And, let’s see… You guessed right. How did you know?”

“I… didn’t? How could I know? Besides, you would’ve cheated and told me I was wrong anyway.”

“Mm, sure, whatever you say,” she says as she plants a loving kiss on your cheek. 

“Wait… was I right?”

The same muffled voice from outside interrupts again, “Miss Jo, please come to the main area now, we can��t afford to wait any longer.” She shoots you a playful look, “I’ll tell you everything later, Oppa, I promise.” She hops off your lap and leaves for the stage as well, and you’re left with nothing but makeshift rags, an empty green room, and a promise for the foursome of a lifetime.

~~~

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Racing for Love

word count: 1.6k

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Wife!reader, ft. thier child

Summery: Max and Y/n navigate the challenges of raising their young son Noah, encouraging his love for racing while standing firm against Jos Verstappen's intense training methods to ensure Noah's happiness comes first.

_____________________________________________________________

The afternoon sun poured over the track, its warm glow casting long shadows as you watched your son, little Noah, zoom around in his mini-kart. He was just four years old, the spitting image of Max—same piercing blue eyes, same determined scowl as he concentrated on mastering every turn.

From the sidelines, you could feel Max’s pride radiating as he watched Noah. It had been his dream to share his love for racing with his son, and now that Noah was old enough to drive a kart, it felt like the beginning of something special. But to you, Noah was still your baby, and seeing him behind the wheel so young filled you with both excitement and a sense of protectiveness.

“He’s a natural,” Max murmured beside you, a smile pulling at his lips. He was quiet today, simply enjoying the moment without any of the pressure that used to weigh so heavily on him.

But that peace shattered the moment you saw Jos pull up to the track. You stiffened, your grip on the fence tightening instinctively. Max noticed your reaction, his own expression darkening slightly. He loved his father, respected what Jos had done for him, but the scars from his own childhood were still there, buried under years of discipline and hard-earned success.

Jos strode over with that same commanding presence, eyes flicking from Max to Noah on the track. “He’s got the Verstappen blood in him, that’s for sure,” Jos said with a grin, but there was something in his tone that sent a chill down your spine.

“I know what you’re thinking, Jos,” Max said calmly, though his jaw clenched. “He’s not me.”

Jos scoffed, folding his arms. “If you want him to be the best, Max, you can’t go easy on him. You know what it takes. You can’t coddle him.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what Jos was thinking—long nights on cold tracks, harsh words, endless drills until exhaustion took over. It had shaped Max into the world champion he was today, but at what cost? You weren’t about to let the same thing happen to Noah.

“No,” you said firmly, stepping forward. “We’re not doing that. Noah is not going to be pushed like that.”

Jos turned his gaze on you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You think I went too hard on Max?” His voice had that edge to it, the one that made it clear he didn’t care for dissent.

“I know you did,” you shot back, feeling your protective instincts rise. “Max went through hell growing up, Jos. I won’t let you put Noah through the same thing. He’s still a child. He’s not going to be pushed until he breaks.”

Max stood silently beside you, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. His hand slipped into yours, his grip tight, supportive.

“He’s got talent,” Jos insisted, his voice rising. “He’s got to be toughened up if he’s going to make it.”

Your eyes blazed as you stepped forward, standing your ground. “Noah is four. He needs to love this sport first. I won’t let you take that away from him the way you almost did with Max.”

The memory of Max’s childhood—a mixture of triumphs and painful sacrifices—hung heavily in the air. You knew how deeply it had affected him, and you weren’t going to let history repeat itself.

Max’s voice was low but firm when he finally spoke, his eyes locked on his father. “She’s right. I don’t want Noah to go through what I did. If he’s going to race, it’ll be because he loves it, not because he’s afraid of failing.”

Jos’ expression faltered for a moment, a flash of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes. “I made you a champion,” he said, but the words lacked the conviction they usually carried.

“And I thank you for that,” Max replied, his tone softer now. “But I want to be a different kind of father. I want to enjoy watching Noah grow, not push him until he resents me—or the sport.”

For a moment, the three of you stood in tense silence, the sounds of the track fading into the background. Noah, blissfully unaware of the conflict brewing, came speeding around the corner, his face lit up with joy as he handled the kart like a pro.

Jos sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “Fine,” he muttered, glancing at Noah. “But don’t come crying to me when he’s not tough enough.”

You exhaled, feeling some of the tension leave your body as Jos turned to walk back to his car. The relief was palpable, but you could still feel the remnants of anger lingering in the air.

Max wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You did good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until you said it.”

You leaned into him, your heart still pounding from the confrontation. “I just want him to be happy, Max. I don’t care if he’s the best driver in the world.”

Max smiled, watching as Noah jumped out of the kart and ran towards the two of you, his laughter infectious. “He will be,” Max said softly, “because he’s got the best parents in the world.”

As Noah raced toward you and Max, his tiny legs barely keeping up with his excitement, his helmet still bobbing on his head, you knelt down to meet him at eye level. His wide smile, the mirror image of Max’s, made your heart swell.

“Mom! Dad! Did you see? Did you see me go around the corner?!” Noah’s voice was filled with that pure, unfiltered excitement only children could have.

Max crouched down next to you, reaching over to ruffle Noah’s messy hair. “We saw, buddy. You were incredible out there,” Max said, grinning proudly.

“You were so fast,” you added, placing your hands on Noah’s small shoulders. “But were you having fun?”

Noah nodded vigorously, his blue eyes shining. “Yeah! It’s just like Dad! I wanna go even faster next time!”

You smiled, though there was a flicker of concern in your heart. “I know you do, sweetheart. But remember, it’s not about being the fastest. It’s about enjoying yourself.”

Max leaned in, adding softly, “Your mom’s right, Noah. The most important thing is that you love what you’re doing.”

Noah frowned a little, looking between the two of you. “But, Grandpa said I need to be the best. Just like you, Dad. I wanna be like you!”

You felt your stomach tighten at the mention of Jos. Max glanced at you before looking back at Noah, his voice gentle but firm. “You will be, Noah, but you don’t have to be the best right away. I wasn’t the best when I started either. It takes time.”

“But Grandpa said I have to work harder,” Noah pressed, his little brow furrowing in confusion. “I want to be like you, Dad. I don’t want to let you down.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, at how much he wanted to impress Max. You reached for Noah’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You could never let us down, Noah. We’re proud of you no matter what.”

Max shifted, his expression growing more serious but still tender. “Look, Noah,” he said, placing a hand on your son’s small shoulder. “I know Grandpa says a lot about working hard and being the best, but that’s not everything. You’re still so young. Right now, it’s more important that you have fun and learn to love racing. You don’t need to be perfect.”

Noah looked up at Max, his eyes wide. “But… what if I don’t get as good as you?”

Max smiled softly, his eyes full of warmth as he gently cupped Noah’s cheek. “I don’t care if you’re the best driver in the world, Noah. I just want you to love it. If you love racing and want to get better, we’ll help you. But if you decide you don’t like it anymore, that’s okay too.”

“But I do love it!” Noah insisted, his small fists clenching with determination. “I love it so much, Dad. I wanna race forever!”

Max chuckled, glancing at you before looking back at Noah. “Then you will, buddy. And I’ll be there every step of the way, but we’re going to do this our way, okay? Not Grandpa’s way. You’re going to race because you want to, not because you have to.”

Noah seemed to process Max’s words, his tiny face deep in thought before he nodded slowly. “Okay, Dad. I like that.”

You smiled, pulling Noah into a hug. “We’re going to have so much fun together, Noah. And when you’re ready, we’ll help you go even faster.”

Noah giggled into your chest before he turned to Max, his eyes wide with excitement again. “Can we go again tomorrow, Dad? Please?”

Max looked at you, his smile softening. “We’ll see, champ. But let’s take it one day at a time, okay?”

Noah nodded eagerly, clearly satisfied with the answer. “Okay! I’m gonna be so fast!”

Max stood, lifting Noah up in his arms as your son beamed with pride. “You already are, Noah.”

As the three of you started walking back toward the car, Noah resting his head against Max’s shoulder, you caught Max’s eye. He gave you a soft smile, his free hand slipping into yours.

“You know,” Max said quietly, “I always thought I wanted Noah to be a driver just like me, but seeing him today… I just want him to be happy.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart full. “He will be, Max. He’s got you—and us—showing him what really matters.”

[neverthatsirius-jo]

november recs <3

— bucky barnes.

cold libraries create warmer hearts by @elvenrin

↳ fic a bit on the longer side (which i love <3) writing this is reminding me that part two is already up and i haven’t read it yet. librarian!reader x history major!bucky. cute, cute fic and steve’s and natasha’s appearances are the best ofc

— james potter.

unrequited, terrifying series by @aurynsia

↳ only read the first two chapters but i really wanna continue the series since it was a really sweet secret admirer!james fic <3

sunlight by @sun-kissy

↳ love a good friend to lovers confession moment and who better to execute that than san?? perfection <33

overheard that she was nineteen by @g1rld1ary

↳ this is for the people that somehow end up crying on every birthday. comfort fic <3

our names in the paper by @g1rld1ary

↳ do yourself a favour and read this, and then go on gia’s blog and read everything she writes cause she’s just that amazing, yk. 10k words of early 2000s romcom vibes and the best dialogues ever. witty and will have you giggling and kicking your feet.

i hate you series by @dreamingofmarauders

↳ haven’t read all of it but cute enemies to lovers james x reader <3

epiphanies over hotpot by @foodiegoogie

↳ loveliest fic written by none other than my twin rese! :D (established relationship <3)

— joel miller.

clay pigeons by @siriuslylantsov

↳ lovely fic, written by a lovely person. hadn’t read any joel fics in a while and him in this one is just 🤌

— matt murdock.

staring right through me by @elixirfromthestars

↳ went through a matt phase and this fic was perfect. go give mel’s blog a look especially if you like reading bucky fics!! <3

— remus lupin.

untitled by @iamgonnagetyouback

↳ honestly this was a very sweet fic and it stole more than a couple smiles from me <33

untitled by @siriuslylantsov

↳ will leave you wanting to take care of remus after a full moon. lovely <33

— sirius black.

bags series by @777heavengirl

↳ so silly of you if you like sirius black and you haven’t read this series yet!! friends to lovers, what more can you ask for? writing is top notch too <3

haircare routine by @siriuslylantsov

↳ pretty sure this was the first fic i read from ace and it had me GIGGLING. cutest thing <3

— spencer reid.

olive theory by @siriuslylantsov

↳ cute little short blurb <3

september rain by @parfaitblogs

↳ has there ever been or is there ever gonna be a jo’s recs without lia on it? well, probably not. cute comfort fic about spencer comforting reader when there’s a storm.

making the bed by @parfaitblogs

↳ another comfort fic with lia’s gorgeous writing <3

kissing in the rain by @catssluvr

↳ cutest fic about well... what the title says. it will leave you with the unquenchable need to dance with spencer under the rain.

slow it down by @reidmania

↳ this fic was the comfort i needed back in november at the stage i was 😭. 100% recomend, the writing is beautiful.

untitled by @parfaitblogs

↳ for some reason it took me the longest while to finally read this fic. forensic scientist!reader and a great fic, but again, read all of lia’s works. or else.

north star by @parfaitblogs

↳ comforting spencer after a nightmare fic <3

state of grace by @parfaitblogs

↳ genuinely loved this one so much. friends with benefits and a bit of avoidant!reader. lia, i love your dialogues. i think i’ve said that a thousand times <3

back to fic recs list

[kajibunny]

you are my most favorite! ⋆⭒˚.⋆ w/ the wind breaker boys

✿ featuring: haruka sakura, hayato suo, ren kaji, hajime umemiya, jo togame, mitsuki kiryu ✿ contains: fluff, f!reader, established relationship ✿ a/n: this is quite near and dear to my heart! all of them have such unique personalities and interests, that i find myself reading their character profiles again and again hihi i hope you cuties like it~ (ㅅ´ ˘ `) ♡ ✿ wc: 1.7k

— your boyfriend definitely has his most beloved things and possessions, but his most favorite of them all? you, his favorite person.

ʚɞ sakura - 

you knew how much sakura loves omurice, and him sharing his food was definitely out of the question. however, he couldn’t resist how you lovingly stared at him while he ate the omurice you made for him like it was his last meal. 

“does it taste good, haru?” you asked, as he has not said a word since you handed over the special bento box you made for him. sakura nods, a small ‘hm’ escaping his mouth. you just love seeing him so happy and so full of life whenever food comes into the equation. 

“feed me too.” you murmured, pleading with puppy dog eyes. you hoped he'd catch on, sensing your wish to share a tender moment, just like those couples you’ve seen, sweetly feeding each other on their dates. 

sakura stops eating his omurice for a second, turning his attention to you and trying to absorb what you just said. “h-hah? you have hands, don’t you?” 

you pout and cross your arms at him. “it tastes better when it’s from you.” you put the spoon back in his hands, and open your mouth to say ‘ah’, waiting for him to give you a spoonful of his food.

he looks away with an evident blush on his cheeks. sakura found it difficult to say no to you, especially when you were being all cute like this. he scoops up some omurice with his spoon, and raises it up to your lips. “fine, but hurry up, it’s embarrassing…”

maybe sakura could make an exception and share his favorite food with his favorite person, after all.

ʚɞ kaji - 

kaji is generally quite protective of his things, his treasured headphones were a gift from the person he looks up to the most, his hoodie is among one of the few clothes he has in his closet, his lollipop was the only thing that kept him calm whenever he was close to throwing a fit of anger. 

that was until you came along and you became the thing he wanted to protect the most.

you and kaji were walking home together from your date, his headphones hanging around his neck the whole time, so he could listen to you talk. the night air was crisp, and kaji immediately noticed how chilly your hand was while he held it in his. he let go of your hand for a little while, much to your dismay.

“you’re cold, so stop whining.” kaji sighs, grabbing your hands and exhaling warm air on them, before taking off his hoodie and putting it on you, the softness of the fabric immediately making you feel warmer, making your cheeks heat up as well.

“thank you, ren.” you smiled, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek as you continued talking his ear off on the way home, fingers intertwined with his as you swayed them happily while walking. 

kaji couldn’t get enough of you like this - something in him just can’t resist how cute you look wearing his hoodie. maybe, he thought, this could be his new favorite thing.

as soon as the both of you arrived at your doorstep, you refused to let go of kaji’s hand. “i just want to be with you a little more, ren…” you said to him.

“we’ll see each other tomorrow. for now, here’s something for you to remember me by.” kaji pulls his lollipop out of his mouth, caressing your cheek with his thumb as he draws you in close, kissing you with so much want and need, making sure that he and the sweet taste of his lollipop flavored kisses are all you’ll ever think about for the whole entire night.

maybe, you thought, this could be your new favorite thing too.

ʚɞ umemiya - 

gardening is umemiya’s greatest passion, and when he found out you shared his love for it, he was over the moon. wanting to share something deeply personal, he decided to invite you to his most cherished place - his rooftop garden.

he takes your hand gently, leading you up the staircase until you two reach his garden. you were greeted by a breathtaking view of carefully arranged pots and planters, nurtured by umemiya’s own hands.

“wow, these are so pretty, haji!” you admire his plants with fascinated eyes, following him along into the plant beds where he kept his vegetables.

“these are my favorites!” he points at his lush and plump tomatoes, and he also shows you his other vegetables and sprouting seedlings. “they all have different needs, different personalities…they’re just like people, in a way.” he turns to you, with a look full of love and affection. you knew how much his little garden meant to him, as he always described it with such passion whenever he proudly showed you the images on his phone, updates here and there as well as his eyes sparkling with excitement while looking at them. 

kind of like the way he looks at you too.

“you know, you kind of remind me of this garden, sweet pea.” he smiles softly at you. 

“really, how so?” you tilt your head curiously.

he steps closer to you, as umemiya envelopes you in a soft embrace. “you make me want to take care of you, like i do with these plants.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head as you lean into him, feeling as cherished as the garden he so lovingly nurtured. 

ʚɞ togame - 

you’ve always been quite curious to try togame’s favorite drink, the one that’s always pressed to his lips - his beloved ramune. 

as you watched him, your eyes were locked onto the bottle in his hand, tracing every movement as he grasps it firmly, pressing down the plastic opener with his thumb, applying pressure to release the marble and all of the drink’s carbonation. he did all this with just one hand, the same hand that lifted the bottle to his lips for a sip.

you were too busy imagining those big, strong, calloused hands on you to realize that togame had started speaking.

“would you like a taste, angel?” he asks you, offering you the bottle of ramune. you were way too fixated on him and how attractive he is that you fumble slightly with your words. 

“a taste of you…r ramune, yes, of course!” you stammered, chuckling nervously as a blush crept up your cheeks, flustered by your own thoughts.

you didn’t miss the way he tried to cover up his smile by clearing his throat, handing you the drink, watching as you took a sip. “so? do you like it? or perhaps…” he trailed off, taking the ramune from your hands and setting it down on the table. 

“do you like this more?” in one smooth motion, he leans in close, his breath warm against your lips. togame’s mouth touches yours, a slow and gentle kiss that made your heart flutter, leaving a trace of his warmth on your lips even after he pulled away, his forehead resting gently against yours as you both smiled, breathless and content.

you had a feeling that togame wanted you more than he wanted the ramune.

ʚɞ suo -

suo’s love for tea is unmatched - he’s practically an expert who has a ritualistic passion for every step of the process. the only thing that can possibly surpass his love and devotion to tea? is his love and devotion to you.

he happily teaches you the art of perfectly steeping tea, but of course, knowing suo, he uses this as an excuse to get as close to you in proximity as he possibly can.

he hums contentedly as he embraces your form from behind, guiding your delicate hands as you grind the tea leaves, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers instructions.

yet his calm, soothing voice and the way he holds you makes it impossible to focus on anything other than the heat of his body and the intimate closeness you share. if anything, this proved to be more of a distraction than him being an effective teacher by any means.

who knew simply making tea could be this intimate?

“i can’t concentrate because of you, hayato.” you huff, feeling his body pressing against yours, trapping you against the kitchen counter.

he chuckles softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “hm? i haven’t done anything.” he teases, his tone light but with a hint of mischief. “this is just what’s necessary if you want to make good tea.”

you can’t help but blush, your heart racing. “what’s necessary? you being clingy with me?”

suo’s arms tighten slightly around you, pulling you even closer.

“exactly. the best tea is supposed to be made with love.” he whispers, his voice low and velvety, leaving you wondering whether it’s the tea or suo behind you making your heart steep in warmth. 

ʚɞ kiryu - 

“aww, i have to log in again.” kiryu sighs, pouting at his phone screen while you two cuddled on his cat-shaped beanbag chair like you do every night. you glanced over at his phone, his favorite game blasting him with countless notifications, demanding his attention, just as the two of you were getting comfortable.

you sighed softly, opening your palm toward him. “hand it over.” you said, “i’ll do your daily login bonus for you.” it was best to get it out of the way quickly so you could get back to what really mattered - more cuddle time with your sweet boyfriend.

kiryu’s eyes lit up with gratitude as he handed you the phone. “really? thank you, princess! i love you~”

you paused, fingers hovering over the screen, heart skipping a beat at his words. “mitsuki… did you just say-”

“yep, i love you!” he repeated without hesitation, his eyes sparkling with sincerity.

a smile tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through your lightly flushed cheeks. “...i might have to do this for you every night, then. also, i love you too.” you cooed at him.

kiryu’s grin widened as he pulled you even closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “okay then, i might have to do this for you every night, too!” he declared, peppering your face with playful kisses.

“help, i won’t be able to log in for you if you do that!” your joyful giggles filling the room as kiryu continued his affectionate assault. his phone lay forgotten as the two of you continued to tumble into a fit of laughter, your smile being the biggest bonus he could ever achieve.

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

happy birthday to one of the greatest fics of all time <3 ( @bisexuallsokka , thank you for writing this masterpiece.)

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥? ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

synopsis: The only constant that’s good enough to distract Pitfighter Vi is calling you when she’s horny

tags: Soft!dom Vi, CallGirl!reader, sesbian lex mwahahaha, established relationship, slight intoxication (i’m pretty sure she’s got a high tolerance by now…), cunnalingus, fingering, nipple play, cum eating, pet names (cupcake, sugar, etc.), praise, vulgar, explicit, smexy i think i hope i pray

wrd cnt : 1.5k

a/n: the wlw in me is awake and ready to scissor i mean succeed… i need to be all up in that icing eating the FUCK outta vi’s absolutely drowning in thst cupcake…anyways guys i’ll excuse myself

extra: also click the title for a song!!

Fight Drink Fuck.

The usual cycle for most Zaunites, especially one of your frequent callers…

You give her the benefit of the doubt- Until she’s calling you at 2am, clearly drunk in her own wallow and whiskey.

Once you make your way up the rusted stairs to Vi’s corner apartment, you knock just once and hear a rustling of clanking bottles and shuffling bedsheets.

The door swings open and you find a wide smiling Vi, a hand reaching for the back of waist to pull you in.

You know the place quite well and it’s…physical restrictions with the lack of space.

“Make yourself at home cupcake”. She says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you follow, sitting on one of your legs.

“You need to be more careful in the pit” You mumble, your fingertips grazing over her bandaged chest, suddenly stopping as Vi feigns a painful wince.

“Just kidding…” She says while smirking, enjoying the concern on your face.

“You’re an asshole.” You say, planning to get off the bed, but you feel her calloused hand grab your forearm to pull you back into place on her lap, straddling her.

“Relax hun…” She coos, “I’ll be fine, especially with you here” She says, rubbing your back softly as she shifts you closer to her, feeling her nose graze the side of your neck as her chin hits your shoulder.

“Mmm…smells good”, you hear her say muffled into your neck.

“You smell like tequila…” You blurt out, earning a chuckle and a nod from her.

“Yeah not like it’s the first time.” She replies, fingers stroking up the sides of your torso, her eyes glued to yours.

“You look like you should sleep instead- your eyes have bags” You point out, touching her under eyes and finding your index covered in black paint.

“I sleep enough” She mumbles, raising her knees up and hoisting you high up in her lap, hands moving down to hold your hips in place.

“I’m suprised you answered my call, it’s past your bedtime.” She adds snarky, referring to your strict business hours as her attention is much more centered at softly squeezing your thighs.

“Funny for you to say.”

She rolls her eyes, running a hand through her disheveled hair and scoffing.

You roll your fingertips together, smearing the paint off your hands and into your clothes.

“Seriously though, heard you got your ass kicked tonight…is that why you’re especially a sore loser right now?”

You hear her chuckle, rolling away an empty bottom under her feet, “If I was such a sore loser why’d you show up? Seems like you don’t mind my drunken escapades.” Her eyes glint, enjoying the little back and forth.

“…Besides” She continued, “Don’t you like it when I call? Or is it all just…business?” She whispers, holding your chin in place to look at you as she tilts her face to get closer.

You feel a slight ache in your chest, a torsion in your stomach as she brushed a thumb across your bottom lip, her grey orbs looking into yours as the faint streetlights from outside seep into her small bedroom.

“Vi…it’s never just business with you”. You answer.

Her lips curved into a slow smile, and she leaned in closer, her breath mingling with yours. "Prove it," she whispered, her voice low and playful.

Your hands tightening slightly as they rested on her shoulders, feeling the firmness of muscle beneath the rough fabric of her shirt.

"How?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

She didn't answer right away, her eyes flicking down to your lips before returning to meet your gaze. "Kiss me," she breathed, the command hanging in the air like a challenge.

The distance between you seemed to shrink, the walls closing in until there was nothing but the two of you in this cramped, chaotic room.

Unable to resist, you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a tentative, almost shy and longing kiss.

Vi responded immediately, her lips pressing firmer against yours, hand sliding up to tangle in your hair as the other grips your hip, grinding you down onto her.

You parted your lips slightly with your thumb, allowing her to deepen the kiss, her tongue darting out to tease yours. The taste of tequila entering your senses

"More," Vi murmured against your lips, her voice hoarse with want.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes dark with desire as you looked down at her.

Her pupils were dilated and hungry, ripping away layers and layers of your clothing.

It wasn’t long until she satiated herself.

Big and rushed hands cupping your now bare breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened under her touch.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning into her mouth, arching into her hands as pleasure shot through your body.

“Fuck… you’re so beautiful,” Vi whispered, her voice shaking with emotion.

You didn’t respond with words, instead choosing to show her just how much she affected you. It was never just business.

Your hands slid down to her belt, fumbling with the buckle as you tried to free her from the constraints of her clothes.

She helped you, quickly unfastening the belt and tugging her pants down below her hips and thrown somewhere in the small room.

The sight of her bare skin, the smooth expanse of her abdomen made your breath catch in your throat. You wanted to devour her, to lose yourself in the sensation of being so close and filthy.

She scooted back, moving you with her until she pushed you flat on your back, head on the big flat pillows near the headboard.

“Vi- wait…” You whisper, getting glimpses of her bruised knuckles.

“Yeah, cupcake?” She asked, her body hovering above yours with her hands on each side of your head.

You stammer about, “…are you sure? Maybe we shouldn’t-“

You get shushed pretty fast, feeling as Vi shifted her weight, allowing you to feel every inch of her against you. "Don't you dare overthink this," she whispered, fingers tangling in your hair as she tilted your head back, exposing the delicate curve of your neck. "Just feel."

Your brows contort in pleasure as you feel her lips kiss and nip at the canvas of your neck, leaving violet marks along your skin as her fingers danced down your stomach to the hem of your panties.

“Aww…these are pretty cute.” She remarks with a sweet chuckle, watching you get embarrassed before pulling them down your legs as she crouches to lay between your legs.

Even after so many times, you feel like you’re getting put under a spotlight every-time Vi scans her eyes over your wet cunt, fingers messily playing with your folds and rubbing your inner thigh, never giving it to you off the bat.

You feel the glare of her eyes on your slippery skin, her breath so close and tantamount to torture.

“Stop staring…” You mumble, hands coming to hold her hair, hearing her chuckle again.

“So impatient…”, she whispers before finally dipping into you, her tongue tracing up your slit to taste you.

You feel your body burn up, undeniably excited for more.

As her tongue flicked against your most sensitive spots, all thoughts seemed to blur into a haze of wanting- needing more.

Her hands grounded you firm, fingers curling against your inner thighs as she effortlessly held you in place, all the while eliciting sultry sounds from you that only turned her on more.

“Vi more…” You breathed out, ragged and needy.

“Tell me what you want, cupcake,” she murmured against your skin, her voice low and sultry- a smirk playing on her lips.

“Please, Vi…your fingers” you managed to breathe, feeling vulnerability wash over you but diluted in your carnal desire.

“See? Not so overthinking now, are we?” she teased, her fingers joining the fray; curling and stroking the spongy spot in your core with precision, back arching instinctively as a primal need surged through you.

“God, Vi…” you moaned, lost in the haze of pleasure she was gifting you, your skin aflame with every touch, every caress that had you spiraling closer to the edge.

And even when you reach it, it won’t be enough, not for her.

“Stay still for me baby…just need s’more…” She huffs out, palms pressing down on your inner thigh to open you up as she presses a flat tongue on your clit.

You groan lowly, feeling her fingers digging into your skin just enough to feel good.

“Vi- I can’t-“

“Yes you can” She groans into your wet lips, “You can take it, sugar”.

You gripped the sheets, feeling your fingernails dig into your own flesh from between the fabric, hips rolling up toward her face as she greedily laps up all the essence spilling and spilling out of your swollen cunt, swallowing up her groans as Vi continues to make you shake and writhe.

You’ll pick up tomorrow’s call too, won’t you?

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.